


Lights Out

by TiBun



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Character Death, Collaboration, Demon! Eric, Grell torture fic!, Horror, M/M, Tentacles-kinda?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric collected only nine hundred and ninety-nine souls, Alan's never counted as the thousandth so the sinner wants one to complete his goal for eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Eternal Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Collaboration with WizardsOfHogwarts (Fanfiction.net)
> 
> Includes "An Eternal Sin" a one-shot prologue written by WizardsOfHogwarts only. (Set as Chapter 1)
> 
> Disclaimer: We do not own any recognizable characters and only explore the possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One-shot by WizardsOfHogwarts (Fanfiction.net) Prologue to "Lights Out"

"Your style is lacking," Eric huffed, flicking away the cigarette he had in his mouth as he approach Alan. It was Eric's turn to tutor the advance class and he was monitoring Alan, who was the third person he was going to instruct next. "You got skill but the way you do it, well, it's like you're holding back." The machine that shot discuses at the young reaper, who was wearing the usual uniform for scythe training, was stalled until Eric reloaded it with a new batch of discuses, he motioned for Alan to come and the brunette done so, jogging quickly to him.

The training scythe was at hand, it was held tight in his grip though Alan looked as though he didn't want to touch the object at all. "Give it here." His extended hand reach to Alan, the quiet student easily handed it to him.

"When you hold back during the exam, you're screwed," he warned him as he walked out into the center of the gym, the other students that were sitting in the stands suddenly perked up at the sight of Eric readying himself for a demonstration. They all sat up to see him coolly spin the small death scythe between his fingers as though it were a pen. He was more than happy to actually get some sort of action. Thankfully, teaching also gave him a bit of a bonus for his next paycheck. "Alright, hit the switch."

Alan nodded and flicked a switch that shot the discuses strait at Eric, the blond took a breather before whirling around to easily stab the death scythe through the center of the discuses without a moment's hesitation. It was complete brutality when he swiftly finished the round that the machine shot at him, it left the others in awe and he made his way back to Alan.

"Just like that," he said, giving the training scythe back to Alan. "See, I didn't even have to breathe for that." Eric gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as encouragement and the brunette nodded once more. "Aw, c'mon, I hate the nods people give out. At least say something..."

"Alright, what's the point of this exercise? It's not like humans are going to fly at us when we have to reap their souls," Alan smartly said with a pleasant smile, some of the students snickered as Eric rubbed the back of his head,"besides, I believe this machine is from the humans themselves, like a target launcher or something for snipers."

Eric chuckled and tucked back a piece of his hair behind his ear. "Trust me, Alan, this exercise is pretty legitimate. I'll give you kids a hint," he raised his voice to address the students,"it's the Cinematic Records you wanna be careful with during the exam. First time you meet them, they're not gonna go to you peacefully. This thing can launch things at the approximate speed Cinematic Records can go if they decide to attack. Now get out there and start smashing this stuff."

Alan sighed and jogged out and away from the machine. Immediately, the discuses came flying at him and the training resumed.

* * *

 

Eric sat at his desk idly, his pen literally stabbing into the paper of his report until a knock rattled his door, surprising him and causing him to rip the paper entirely. The tear of the fibers woke him up from his afternoon daze and he quickly crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the bin. He cared less to fix anything else as the door opened to show a random reaper enter without a spark of emotion. Eric slightly scowled, he hated the workers here. A majority of them were emotionless freaks that were all workaholics that seemed to be like little clones of William.

He swore to never give in to the monotonous life but with that being aside, he solemnly hung out with anyone. Grell, well, he was a rather colorful person but was prone to flirting with anything that looked like would give a good, hard fuck the redhead wanted. Eric pushed out perverse thoughts as the worker at the door spoke,"Mr. Slingby, Mr. Spears requests that you come to his office." Eric have a quick nod and the door was opened wider, he got up from his chair and left his office.

The walk to William's office was the next floor up, Eric took the elevator to get there. The white walls and floors were almost too plain, the same exact format was used for the other offices though he inwardly joked that the entire district was designed to be some sort of madhouse that kept workers in its own twilight zone, one in which overtime trapped them for all eternity. Eric huffed as he knocked on the door, William called out,"Come in," and Eric entered.

William's office was larger than most Officers, seeing how he was at a higher position, though it looked more empty due to having little to no decorations. There was a plant sitting in a lonely corner but it was practically the only break from the whiteness. Eric noticed the other occupant in the room, it was Alan. He donned his own customary glasses and had his tie replaced with a bolo tie, signifying he graduated the Academy as an Honors Student.

"Eric Slingby, this is Alan Humphries, he will be part of my personal, therefore, I want you to teach him what you know," William explained from his seat. Eric kept his eyes at Alan, then smiled to him as the brunette extended his hand. The two men shook hands as an acceptance of their meeting as William went on,"Also, since I have overtime for the next three days, I need you to fill out the applications for his death scythe."

"Sure thing," Eric casually nodded off,"well, looks like you didn't hold back...good thing you came back alive, Alan."

"You were right about the Cinematic Records, Mr. Slingby, I'm thankful for that," he thanked him politely,"I'll do my best as an Officer-"

"Wait, he's already an Officer? !" The blond exclaimed, eyes wide.

"He graduated with the highest marks and has already reaped a few other souls on his own when I came to test him myself. I only want the most efficient workers-" The door burst open and a flurry of red came in. Grell, the freak of a reaper, had bounded it, passing quickly between Eric and Alan and sat upon William's desk, causing a few papers to fly scatter all over, disrupting the peaceful meeting between the other two. "Sutcliff! I swear, I'll give you enough overtime to last a century!"

Grell offhandedly waved his threat away at the sight of Alan. "Ooooooh, is this the new recruit we have? He's absolutely adorable~!" He hopped off the desk but Wililam had grabbed a chunk of his hair, causing him to yelp out.

"Sutcliff, if you so much ever as to touch a single strand of Humphries hair, I will reduce your pay by fifty percent!" William threatened once more, Grell was held back as Alan took a step back to avoid Grell's flailing arms and legs. "Ugh, Slingby, Humphries, you're allowed to leave. I'll take care of this."

"Got it," Eric said, but then he realized Alan moved to a box that was pushed off to the side of the room. Eric wondered why he never noticed it as Alan explained over Grell's wails,"Unm...it's my things, I was assigned to an office to work at." Eric watched the smaller man easily heft the box into his arms and hobble over to the door, waiting for Eric to open it. The blond did so. "Mr. Spears said room 843."

Eric raised an eyebrow and lead him around the building. "Well, what d'ya know, it's across from my office," he chuckled as Alan placed down the box. He fumbled around for the key and unlocked the door. Eric had always wondered what was inside that locked office, no one had used it and it was always lonely of an occupant ever since Eric had been promoted. Once opened, the room was shown to be quite bare; a dusty desk and chair was situated in the middle, a bookcase was up against the wall, and adjacent to the bookcase was a window that was covered up by black curtains.

It was very dark, even the white walls were covered in dust, giving it a gray appearance.

"Sure could use a bit of cleaning," Alan breathed out, he brought the box over to the desk as Eric asked,"What's in the box?"

"Not much, just my clothes, a couple books and, uh..." He scratched the back of his head as he lowered it, slightly embarrassed."...the Academy kicks out graduates from boarding so I got no where to go."

Eric shook his head. "Aw, c'mon, you can stick with me until you get your own flat." Alan's head instantly shot up in surprise. "Don't worry, I housed a couple people whenever they got nowhere to crash after the Academy. Is that all you got in your box? Just your clothes?" He nodded. "Just leave it here, we got a couple things to take care of if you're gonna be Spears' lapdog."

* * *

 

A week had passed since Eric allowed Alan to room with him. He was a very quiet roommate, always keeping to himself by burying himself in books for entertainment and reports for work. There was an extra room, one that Eric allowed tenants to stay over; it was easier to pay half the price of the apartment than whole whenever Eric had a roommate. Since Alan wasn't much of a bother, Eric didn't mind him. Just like Alan, he never exactly interacted with anybody, Eric rather kept to himself unless something interested him.

It was a Saturday, the two men had the day off and were both content in staying at home. Eric had just woken up from a good long rest to see Alan sitting in the loft with a book at hand. The image was something he had grown accustomed to but he couldn't help but think if Alan had anybody to talk to or socialize with. Eric breezed passed him to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He took the milk carton and was about to drink from it with his lips until Alan spoke out,"You know I drink milk from that too."

"Huh?" Eric was half way near drinking, then he placed the carton down on the counter. "Eh-heh...sorry."

"Nah, it's alright, I do the same," he laughed dryly.

He has a sense of humor.

Eric grabbed a cup from the upper cupboard and poured himself some milk. He went over to sit next to Alan as he sipped at the cool beverage, he glanced over at the book. "So you're reading The Suicide Club?"

"Yeah, keeps me occupied," he replied distantly,"really good." Eric drank some more.

"I used to read a lot...hadn't got to lately since I got promoted. You'll start putting the books down when Spears starts overtime with you." He got up and went back to the kitchen when he was done. He ran the sink and began to clean last night's dishes. "...so...you got any friends? Family?...you've been here for a week, means you're gonna be here for a year. No complaints really..."

Eric had another reason not to complain. Alan was quite the organizer, he kept the apartment clean and even did the laundry. His paycheck wouldn't come for another three weeks so it was the least he could do until then. Alan turned another page.

"I don't exactly have any friends...and my family sort of left me at the Academy, they hadn't written or spoken to me. It's not much of a bother for me, it's alright. I don't mind it..." He let out a soft sigh then coughed slightly. "What about you? Do you have anybody?" Eric's brows furrowed at the question. "You look like the type to socialize, really."

"...nope, you got that wrong. There's not that many friends from work, they're all too dull. No one even says good morning..."

* * *

 

"Good morning Eric..."

"...g'morning Alan," Eric replied as they split off to their respective workrooms,"y'know, you don't have to say g'morning to me. It's been a month and we live together and we go to work together." They stopped at the doors.

Alan smiled to him pleasantly with a black folder in tow, Eric had the same one. "I think it's polite to just do it." William walked by, stoic as ever with his death scythe adjusting his glasses to perfection. "Ah, good morning Mr. Spears." William gave him an odd look, then nodded curtly before pausing to address Alan.

"...good morning, Humphries, you and Slingby have an assignment together today. There is gong to be a rather hefty soul collection for Slingby so I thought that he would be better to have an assistant. It'll take place two kilometers north of London within five hours, a train accident involving a collision between two trains. Tickets are waiting for you at General Affairs once you sign out for you death scythes. Good day to you both and Slingby, take care of Humphries." Without another word, William continued on.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Hn...Spears never explained missions to anyone personally."

Alan's smile broadened even more. "I told you. Politeness will get you places."

* * *

 

Alan was an interesting individual. He managed to break the black and white tones of the whole working department, while Grell was a color manifesting in his appearance, by being polite towards everyone. Eventually, the entire floor was more than a working office, reapers had began to socialize just a little bit more. Smiles were exchanged and greetings were passed on. Eric looked down at the cup of coffee on a mug.

The two were boarded in the restaurant car, most of its passengers were enjoying their lunches so it was bet to station themselves in an area where most of the souls are gathered in one place. Eric was amazed by Alan's logic, he supposed that Alan did deserve the position as an Officer for a good reason. The said brunette was sitting across from him, buried in a book and a scone.

"You're a strange person sometimes," Eric started. They hadn't talked since they boarded.

"And I think you are as well."

Eric reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. "You don't mind, do you?"

Alan looked up from his book to see that every man or so in the lounge had finished their meal and were currently enjoying themselves on cigars and pipes. He didn't seem to mind them at first but he looked sort of uncomfortable. "Nope. Everyone else is doing it." Eric huffed and lit the cigarette. "Those things cause cancer to humans."

"And I'm not human so it doesn't matter," Eric laughed,"it's not like I can die. Besides, I bet you that no one in this car knows what cancer is."

Alan nodded and returned to his book and scone. "Yeah...but had you ever had the consideration that us immortals have the ability to die? Anything that has a heart...they die. Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well..."

Eric frowned as the English delicacy was finished with. "What the fuck are you reading?" He asked rather harshly but it was enough to make Alan look directly at him. "It it's that human spirituality crap, I swear..." Eric was never one to outwardly criticize Alan's taste in literature but the young reaper had a tendency to read philosophy, something Eric was never fond of. "...that stuff'll get you ruined, it's worse than the cigarettes I smoke. Trust me, we're Death...we can't die no matter what."

"Then why did my death scythe come with a warning label?"

His eyes went wide. "Oh?" He never exactly cared for Terms and Conditions to anything. Anyone in the Dispatch Association, whether they were as persnickety as William or as lazy as Grell, would have avoided reading the Terms and Conditions for their death scythes. Eric began to laugh in disbelief. "You actually read that thing? It's a hundred pages front and back!"

Alan gave him a cocky smirk. "I just read fast."

"Then how the hell have you been reading the same book the passed week?"

"I'm just a deep thinker."

"Oh my God, no wonder you don't have friends, you're too polite and you think too much."

Alan held up his hands in defense. "Hey, you started it. Besides, how do you know what I read?"

"I just..." Eric was lost at words but what he didn't want to say suddenly came spilling out from his mouth. "...I just pay attention to you is all. I'm sorry, but you being the only living thing in my apartment, it's hard to not notice you. The only difference I see every time I look at you is the book in your hand!"

Alan's eyes went wide but then the train jolted violently, sending everyone forward. Alan was no exception when he flew face first into the table. The book at hand fell out from his fingers as Eric summoned his saw from under the table. Alan scrambled to get himself up as passengers were scattered about. Eric bit the cigarette between his teeth as he helped Alan to stand. The car shuddered as it jolted once more before steadily going up. Alan looked frightened though he was quick to recover, his death scythe was with him as he readied himself for the collection.

"Finally, some action, c'mon!" Eric snarled before running to the front where the first of their humans would perish. Alan bent down to fetch his book before attending the humans around him. He fallowed Eric closely into the next car.

* * *

 

The collection was a success. No complications or souls were missed and the two reapers were done by three in the afternoon. They departed the train wreck, only to find themselves at a field of flowers. Well, Eric never noticed that they were in a field until Alan began to show some sort of recognition for the flowers and even began a short lecture about them despite having to deal with a bloody accident. He finished with a solemn sigh,"I actually like these ericas..."

Eric, who barely showed interest at the simple plant, perked up at the statement. "...are they that special?"

"Yeah, they mean loneliness," he replied,"they're often used at funerals to surround the caskets." Eric stalled in his steps as Alan walked ahead of him.

_Has he been trying to tell me something?_

* * *

 

"Slingby, that's personal information," William said. It was a few days after the train accident. Eric stood in front of William's desk once more, he decided to personally hand in the reports as an excuse to discuss Alan with William. "You should be aware we have a privacy policy."

Eric bit his lip as William took the folder that held both his and Alan's reports. "I think there's something wrong with him. I mean, the things he's been reading, the way he acts, and the flowers..."

William looked up at him. "You're suspecting Alan of being depressed...through flowers?"

"...unm, not exactly like that but in a way, yes." William took the reports and stared at them quietly for a while, Eric apprehensively waited, the tension in the air was suffocating him. Eric just had to know what made Alan acted the way he did. Another moment dragged on. "You're still here?" William asked.

"I hadn't left now have I?"

"...Alan Humphries...I picked him for a reason and yet he was forced upon me for another. The higher-ups suggested for me to take him in, for one, he was highly advanced for his age and would be a valuable asset to the workforce. So I agreed until I read over his health record. There was a reason why other Managers refused to accept him, he is inflicted with the Thorns of Death, he's had them ever since the exam." William sighed. "No manager wanted to handle him so they gave him to me. He's only useful for a little while but at least I can have less overtime."

* * *

 

A few days passed. A Sunday. A time for resting. And Eric was doing it rather well on his couch. He expected to see Alan sitting in his usual spot but the young man failed to be there. Eric placed two feet on the coffee table and lounged back, eyes closed. He heard Alan's door open and he heard the sound of Alan shuffling about to get out of his room. Eric looked at him and saw he was dressed for going out, he was casually dressed, jeans and sweater.

"...where're you going?" Eric asked.

"Going to the bookstore."

"Alright."

And the younger reaper left without another word. Eric got up and huffed, he went to his room, grabbed the nearest pair of jeans and slipped them over his boxers. He then took a corduroy shirt to button over and left to go after Alan, who was at the stairs. "Lemme come with. I'll get us some coffee..."

Alan perked up. "Oh, unm, sure."

The trip carried on quite quaintly. They traveled out of the apartment area and into the industrial area of the town. A bookstore above a coffee shop was built between a bar and a death scythe repair shop. There was a group of Academy students waiting outside the cafe, they were waiting for it to open though by the time the duo arrived, the owner switched around the sign and opened his door. They all entered and waited once more in a yawn-filled line .

"Hadn't been here since...a decade or two," Eric uttered,"not much changed."

Chairs were stacked on top of tales though groups of students were pulling them down so that customers would be able to sit. Eventually, Alan and Eric got their coffee and migrated upstairs to the bookstore. It was empty save for the two and the shopkeeper. Alan had his cup of coffee sit by the windowsill as Eric leaned back against the wall to watch him. Gingerly sipping his coffee, Eric couldn't help but think how Alan could have been inflicted with the Thorns of Death.

Alan was generally a healthy reaper. He didn't seem to have any issue with himself and he barely showed signs that hinted towards the fatal disease. He watched Alan go towards the Human Philosophy/Religion section, he started searching the rows of books at the bottom then worked his way to the top. When he found the book he wanted, which was on the third highest shelf, he reached up but failed to even touch the shelf itself. Eric sipped quietly but then he saw Alan's sleeve roll down, he had a clear sight of the man's wrist and saw dark lines that seemed to have been tattooed to his skin.

At first it looked like a tattoo thought the skin looked too pale around it. Eric placed his coffee next to Alan's and went over to him.

"Hey, Al, don't strain yourself," Eric advised, he was right by Alan,"which one?"

Alan pointed up at it,"The Allegory of the Cave."

Eric nodded and simply reached for it, pulled it out of its place, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Alan said, smiling up at him. Eric gave a warm, bashful expression though his eyes were staring at Alan's hand. The sleeve was back to covering his wrist once more. "Eric? What's up?"

"...can I see your wrist?" Eric asked in a quiet murmur. Alan shifted around uncomfortably.

"No."

"I'm not gonna judge you or anything."

Alan reluctantly lifted his right hand at him and allowed Eric to roll down his sleeve. With greater detail, the lines looked more lie thorns. They were black and looked like they were making a clear trip up Alan's forearm. "I held back," Alan explained,"remember the first time we met?" Eric rolled the sleeve further up his arm to see the rest of his pale skin. "The soul I was supposed to collect, I felt bad for her, she just couldn't die and...I mean, she was crazy but I pitied her. I just wanted her to share her pain with me so she wouldn't have to bear through it in Hell and..."

Eric had a thumb on the mark.

"You let her Cinematic Record into you, didn't you-"

"I only thought it would happen once but those souls that the high-ups assigned me to collect, I just felt bad for them!"

Eric frowned and suddenly pulled the younger reaper close to him to hold. Alan let out a surprised yelp as Eric crooked his neck and bent slightly to murmur in Alan's ear,"How long have you been doing this?"

"When I learned I got the Thorns of Death...I stopped when Mr. Spears took me in. I did so much damage to myself...I know I'm going to die later, not now. A few decades and then I'm gone for good." Eric pulled back slightly though he still had him in a tight embrace. "Now who will pity me when I'm gone?" He was amazed at the fact that Alan was able to fit nicely into his larger form, it was as if they were two puzzle pieces that were meant to be in place together. Alan was using his normal calm done, though Eric learned that there was a hint of sadness in it.

"I'll pity you," Eric said when he heard Alan drop the book and then felt his smaller arms snake around and upwards on his back. Alan snuggled his face into Eric's chest and grasped him. "You have to be crazier than Grell to do this to yourself...Al, I'm surprised you kept this from me for a while."

Alan shifted his head to look up at him, eyes were glassy though no tears came to those brilliant orbs. "You're not afraid?"

"Why would I be? You're the only color I've had in that stupid office building. In fact, I'm staring to see color now because of you," Eric shyly confessed. It was true. The passed decades, all that Eric had seen was that maddening white and the occasional black on the paintings and suits that workers wore. But eventually, colors blurred together until he saw the entire world in a gray scale.

Alan hadn't manage to only break the social barriers that nearly everyone had but he also broke the monotonous colors that had plagued Eric's eyes. Alan was a simple splash though Eric had been so moved by him. "Eric?" He murmured. Eric couldn't help himself. The brunette had began to grow upon him. He just had to tell him how much he felt for him and yet he was trying to keep the simple relationship that the two had developed. "Eric-"

"Just stop talking," was all Eric could splutter out, he brought a hand to Alan's chin and tipped his head upwards to capture his lips in his own. He heard Alan stop breathing, he felt him grow rigid under his touch, and he pretty damn well knew that he was going to regret this. But much to his surprise, he felt Alan open his mouth slightly and snake his tongue to meet his own. Eric brought him closer and ran his tongue smoothly over Alan's, causing him to moan indiscreetly. That was when Eric remembered that they were just a few feet away from the cashier's desk with the clerk watching them with wide eyes.

Eric slowly pulled his lips from Alan's and gave the woman an apologetic look, though she seemed to be dazing into her own fantasy world and seemed to care less of whether the kiss was out of line or not. She even giggled and winked at Eric as Alan quickly unwrapped himself from Eric's hold and reached down for the book on the floor. When Alan got up, Eric saw the furious blush across his face, Eric was a bit red himself after they finished purchasing Alan's book.

* * *

 

They returned to the apartment without another word passed between the two, though they returned hand in hand, content of their acquaintances becoming more than just friends. They just went inside and were quiet with one another. The air was tense between them, Eric still clenched Alan's hand and the two stood there, facing each other in the small hallway of their apartment. The coffee was done and was thrown away ages ago, though the only thing at hand was his book.

Immediately, when the door slammed closed, Alan dropped the new book, it landed with a clunk on the wood as he sprung up to wrap his arms around Eric's broad shoulders. Then, with a little heft, Eric managed to catch him, his own hands cupping the back of Alan's thighs and helping him bring his legs around Eric's muscular waist. They lips were connected briefly until Eric roughly pushed Alan against the wall. It wasn't harsh though it made Alan loose his breath for a minute. Alan looked dazed for a few seconds though Eric kissed him once more, tongue forcing itself into Alan's gasping mouth and eliciting a soft groan from him.

"Mmmmmn..."

The sound that Alan made caused a ripple of warmth to course to Eric's body, he smirked as his teeth grated slightly against the other's teeth. Saliva exchanged between them, when Eric pulled away a trail of it that connected their lips by a fine line extended. Alan's eyes were still wide, though he managed to breath out,"Wow."

"It can be more than that," Eric purred when he leaned in once more to lick the shell of Alan's ear. The brunette shivered under his touch but then he shuddered when that placid muscle danced towards his neck. With their pelvises rubbing against each other, Eric felt Alan's need through his jeans. He pressed against him even harder and he swore Alan was becoming more noticeable, heat began to radiate from the brunette and, when Eric nipped at his vein, his heart beat was growing rapid from excitement. Alan's legs wrapped tighter around Eric's waist and reeled him closer to cause a friction that left Alan scatterbrained.

Eric chuckled under his breath and bit at the skin, sucking at it, he left a distinct mark that would definitely be seen at work the next day. The brunette grunted at the slight pinch of pain Eric cause from the love bite but Eric apologetically ran his tongue over it, then he trailed his tongue back to Alan's mouth to kiss him roughly.

Alan was clinging to Eric for dear life, letting him do whatever he can to make him moan as he grasped tightly to his broad shoulders. Eric pulled away from his mouth to huskily say,"You can let go of my shoulders...I won't let you fall. Ever." Alan nodded, eyes half-lidded closed as he hesitated to release his hold on Eric's shirt. "You'll be fine."He accentuated his reassurance by putting his hands at Alan's waist to hold him in place. "Hnm?"

He noticed him unbuttoning his shirt, within a few seconds, Alan was reaching under his undershirt to rove his fingers over Eric's well-defined chest. The blond hissed when he felt Alan pinch his nipple, just teasingly, before having his other hand slightly tickle his abdomen with those ginger touches. Eric began to feel a bit strained in his own pants though he tried to ignore that feeling. "Ah..."

Alan giggled when Eric struggled to hold his breath while simultaneously try to release it. He pinched him again before leaving his chest to bring his hand up to caress Eric's jawline. Eric stared down at him, that sincere and yet lewd look danced through his eyes and mind. Eric leaned his head a little more into the simple gesture. At first he and Alan were sent into a frenzy but now it was calm, just briefly, it was as if Alan was admiring Eric's features.

"What is it?" Eric murmured, he turned his head to kiss Alan's palm. The brunette had an aroused blush that was slowly fading but his labored pants told a different story. "You see something?"

"You love me," was his reply. Eric smiled and kissed that soft palm again, whispering,"You think that?"

Alan's hand traced upwards towards Eric's temple, passed his cornrows, and back to lace his fingers in his hair. "I know that." Then he pulled Eric forcefully to kiss him with such ferocity that it made Eric groan out this time. Alan began to grind his hips shakily against Eric, Eric suddenly grasped the brunette hips to keep him still. He skillfully took one hand from Alan's hip to bring to their fronts, he undid the belt on Alan's jeans, then undid everything else so that he could fish in to take a hold to the brunette's arousal. "Ahn!"

Alan instantly became rigid as Eric pressed him even closer against the wall to keep him from falling. Eric nipped playfully at Alan's tongue. The strain in his own boxers and pants were starting to be rather uncomfortable but when Alan frantically bucked his hips closer to Eric's hand, it caused friction that rubbed against Eric's own length that was growing rather rapidly. Eric released another held back grunt as he wrapped his hand completely around Alan, squeezing slightly at the middle, then he slid down towards the base before going back up to fondle with the tip. Alan cried out in their heated kiss, the hand in his hair tugged at his hair harder.

The more he made those lusty noises, the more Eric began to want him. His need was threatening to ravage Alan the best that he could to his abilities, it was beckoning Eric to take him against the wall, and Eric was going to. Eric began to pump Alan's length, the brunette whined in his throat, the vibrations exchanged between their mouths blurred Eric's vision slightly. Their tongues battled fiercely against one another as Alan eventually found a rhythm to rock against Eric erratic hand. But then Eric withdrew his hand and lips and brought his hand towards a nearby bureau where their keys and other trinkets rested in its drawers.

"Eric," Alan whined quietly, Eric fumbled to open the top drawer while easily keeping Alan balanced against the wall. He reached around blindly until he pulled out a bottle lotion that came from a birthday party a few years back. He popped the cap open and brought the bottom of the little plastic bottle between his teeth. His other hand swiftly ran Alan's pants up his thighs, causing his boxers to hike up his legs. Alan was forced to unwrap his legs around Eric's waist so that when he stood, his jeans instantly fell to pool around his ankles. Alan stepped out of them as he was hoisted up once more, this time higher, to coil his legs around Eric's torso.

As that was happening, Eric bit at the bottle, causing the plastic to bend a squeeze enough lotion to coat his free hand. It lacked a scent but was rather slick than most lotions Eric ever felt. When he though he had enough, he dropped the bottle from his mouth. It clunked to the floor near Alan's book. With Alan being a bit more higher, Eric had no problem reach under Alan, his lotion coated finger prodded Alan's tight hole, Alan's eyes went wide at that protrusion.

Eric heard Alan whimper when he carefully pushed that digit inside his tight walls. There was barely any resistance though Alan was quick to entangle both hands in Eric's hair. Eric tried to go his slowest though Alan's muscles clenching around his finger made him even more hotter, he wondered how it would feel to have his cock buried inside Alan. Thoughts traveled to how the soon to be friction would feel, Eric felt even more strained in his pants as he looked up at Alan.

The brunette had an exasperated look, his eyes were shut tight with a tear or so forming at the corner, his jaw was taut both anticipation and pain, and his chest was heaving. It was contorted slightly, his expression, Eric had a hard time telling whether he enjoyed it or was uncomfortable, but the whines faded away and turned to a forced sigh; Eric felt Alan push down against his hand, it was an indication that he had managed to grow accustomed to that foreign feeling.

Both of Alan's hands were clawing into Eric's shoulders, his arms flexed under those thin sleeves, they bent slightly to allow Alan to go lower and cause Eric's finger to go deeper inside. The brunette cracked an eye open to glance at Eric, then he nodded, he was simply lost at words. Eric smiled and let his middle finger fallow his index finger, he began to stretch the relaxed hole. He scissored his fingers slowly, flickering them from time to time and tapping certain parts that made Alan moan softly, then he hit a certain spot that suddenly made quiet mewls to desperate wails that begged Eric to just take him.

Eric took his time brushing over that spot to send Alan into another frenzy, his hip grated against that firm hand, Eric inserted a third digit and had Alan shuddering in delight. It was amazing how fast Alan had grown accustomed to his touches. Alan had a knack for staying relaxed, it was emphasized in this precious moment in the small hallway. Eric stretched all three fingers a bit more before pulling them out, much to Alan's disappointment.

"...guh...Eh...Eric...g-get in me," Alan managed to breathe out. Eric managed to undo the button and fly of his pants and reached in to pull out his aching member, he rubbed whatever lotion he had left on his hand to moisten his swollen cock. Then, slowly while holding his breath, he eased himself into Alan's blazing warmth, Alan lowered himself to help the process, his legs were around Eric's waist now but the blond couldn't wait any longer; the brunette grunted in discomfort but then cried out when Eric suddenly thrust into him completely, burying himself and then stopping to give Alan time to adjust.

Eric could have penetrated him gentler but with the amount of time his need was suffocating in his pants, he had to get in Alan as soon as he possibly could. The tears Alan had forming at his eyes suddenly spilled out, Eric's heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach from the overwhelming guilt that washed over him. Delicately, he brought his hand to Alan's face to comfort him, he stroked his cheekbone and lovingly wiped those tears away. Alan was hissing and gasping, even clenching his teeth, but then Eric gently pulled his head down to kiss him, reassuring him that that pain would bade good-bye to Alan.

Moments passed, the brunette stiffly shifted his hips and moaned shyly. Eric pushed deeper in response and groaned himself as Alan lazily kissed back, tongues slid against each other slowly despite having been worked up moments earlier earlier. When he felt he couldn't go any deeper, Eric slowly slid out, drawing an exquisite moan from Alan. He brushed every single part of him, rubbing Alan's walls and relishing the unbelievable friction he slowly developed.

"Hn...hah...han...hnm...un...Eric..."

And those sweet sounds Alan made nearly made Eric want to come right then and there. Pleasure coursed through both their bodies as Eric pushed in faster with Alan arching his back and pulling away from Eric's mouth to cry out. He turned his head to the side but Eric forced him to face him. "No," Eric murmured,"look strait at me..." Alan's eyes were shut closed but at least he wasn't facing the other direction, his glasses were askew and barely holding to his face by his nose. With Alan's hips wildly trying to create a rhythm for the two, Eric complied and, grasping Alan's hips and digging his fingers to his skin, pulled out and went back in more forcefully.

Alan cried out once more and met that one particular shallow thrust, it made both men see stars. They briefly paused in movement, Alan opened his eyes a tiny bit to find Eric and, all Eric could do before Alan said anything was to meet his lips with his own and kiss him his hardest. With the angle they two found to cause to most pleasure for both, Eric began to thrust harder, hitting that specific spot within Alan over and over, prompting the brunette to leak out wanton, sex-drunk moans that drove Eric mad, not that was already.

With those slicked walls contrasting all around Eric, he managed to bring a hand between the two and stroke Alan. If Alan hadn't been shuddering enough, he jolted at the extra stimulation Eric gave him. Beads of sweat formed upon their brows and necks, some dripping down their faces, Eric's hand was no exception when it began to moisten itself, giving him less traction to pump Alan's hard arousal.

"AH! Eric! F-fuck!" Alan cursed. The profanity was unexpected but Alan doing this with Eric was even more unexpected, Eric hummed and kissed Alan's neck, nipping and biting at various placing and leaving another mark to show the world Alan was taken. Alan was his. He let Eric come this close to him, close enough to touch him and be inside him. Alan allowed himself to be taken. And he didn't hold back from such a life-changing opportunity. None of them were holding back.

Alan's feminine moans and Eric's hoarse growls bounced off the hallway and resonated in their ears as they neared that climax that threatened to make all the sensations they felt nothing compared to its ravaging waves. Eric was slamming himself into Alan, the smaller reaper never stopped or hesitated to show any sign he was enjoying it; he encouraged Eric to quicken his pace until he was nailed against the wall without any intention of being stopped.

Eric was gritting his teeth, Alan grow louder and louder until he reached a higher octave. He felt Alan clench painfully around him, the next thing that Eric knew, he released himself into him; white light blinded him just for a few endless seconds of that quick shot of pleasure. Eric's entire body grew rigid and he let himself ride out that euphoria that completely blinded his senses briefly. His eyes shut and then opened to find himself leaned against Alan, content with their actions.

Alan had just came down from his high as well, his arched back and parted mouth in that scream had just faded away, he was laying against the wall as well, panting, arms languidly dropping by his side, uncaring for balance. Eric nuzzled his neck into the crock of Alan's neck, murmuring incoherent words that neither of the could understand.

"...hnm?" Alan uttered, his front and Eric's hand were coated in his essence and were in need of a good wash. He gasped when Eric withdrew from him, then he earned a peck on the lips. They were still entwined, Eric still carried him and pressed him against the wall, not allowing him to leave though Alan looked like he didn't mind.

* * *

 

Years went by, Eric had learned to live with Alan comfortably, they began to read each other like Cinematic Records. Every morning, Alan would greet Eric and vice versa, and every night, when no papers were given for overtime, they would lock doors behind them or go somewhere hidden to ravage themselves. It was the same but Eric would never get bored, he was so close to him, he thought Alan would never break, never fall, until one night, during an overtime assignment, he and Alan were racing playfully across the London rooftops, ready to go home and report their latest collection.

Alan was doing fine. He was sprinting in front of Eric with ease, his death scythe sent away. Eric cursed and rushed to be in front but then he saw Alan loose his footing for a split second. He watched in horror as the brunette slip off the edge of a roof, there was no effort into trying to regain ground. He had his hand clenching his chest, cries of agony escaped his fair lips as he was sent plummeting down to the street below. But Eric was quicker and dived down to catch him in midair. They landed in an empty alley, there, Eric settled Alan gently to the ground, he reached to Alan's sleeve and rolled it up to see the Thorns of Death had suddenly spread.

Only last night they were at Alan's wrist, now they were crawling up his forearm and stopping at his elbow.

"E...Eric," Alan coughed out, it was strained and it pained Eric to see him go through this. His other hand was desperately grasping the cloth of his blazer, Eric gathered him in his arms once more and raced for Alan's life.

* * *

 

Eric waited by Alan's bedside. The man was wrapped in blankets, shivering with a fever but had a damp washcloth on his forehead to keep his temperature down. Nurses told Eric he was free to go, but Eric was firm in wanting to stay, he never moved his spot. He wanted to stay with Alan, he knew he could never end the disease, once a reaper was inflicted with it, it would never let go. He stayed by Alan's bedside, quiet, watching him and never leaving for a break.

It was deathly quiet in the Infirmary. Eric reached to grasp Alan's hand, caressing it, waiting for Alan to come to. An hour passed, the double doors opened with creaks, Eric looked up to see Grell Sutcliff. The normally colorful reaper was silent, he never bounced in his high pumps as he walked over to them. He stood at the foot of Alan's bed, he picked up a clipboard that hung at the edge and read it.

"Will told me to come by," was his only explanation of being there,"the department will know about his condition sooner or later since you brought him through the front doors."

Eric scoffed,"What do you want me to do? Stay at a human hospital and let him get worse?"

Grell didn't smile or backhanded him with a witty remark like he always done. For once in Eric's career, he was seeing a sincere part of Grell. The redhead flipped through the papers and placed the clipboard back in its original position. He was quiet, his eyes shifted left to right, checking to see if there was anyone in the Infirmary though no one was in sight. "...Eric...you love him, don't you?" Eric made a gesture to hit him, ready to throttle him for asking such an obvious question. "Just answer me."

"...I'll commit any sin to share his pain," Eric said coldly.

Grell walked to the other side of Alan. "...there is one cure...just one, one that's considered a sin for all reapers." He was staring down at Alan's sweaty face, his hand went to caress his cheek and to wipe away a few beads of sweat. Eric eyed that hand touching his Alan, but he listened carefully to Grell, an incident like this will happen over and over, and never cease until Alan's soul was eaten from the inside and torn to shreds by the Thorns of Death, the souls that he pitied all those years before. "...a thousand innocent human souls, the Thorns of Death will find it as compensation for the reaper's own soul and consume those instead."

Then Grell's solemn look was destroyed and easily reverted to a mischievous one, one in which he smiled. His lips curled and his pearly white shown. He leaned forth, he was inches away from Eric, Eric instantly looked at him. Eric saw those fake eyelashes bat, he could count them if he could. He glared at the redhead atop of Alan, clearly he had some sort of honor but held no respect for the sick reaper below him.

"A thousand, Eric...and only a hundredth of the souls you collect by yourself are pure at all. Would you sacrifice everything...just to save a dead man?" Grell whispered it maliciously, he giggled softly. "Hnm?"

"If it'll keep me from being lonely in this eternal life, I'll commit any sin," he repeated solidly. Grell snapped back to a strait position, he whirled around and the sound of his heels clicking against the floor. He was walking towards the double doors. "...so you came here to tell me that?"

Grell paused and turned, he was fiddling with his hair, he sighed,"I would say that I envy you and Alan's perfect relationship, it is quite a shame to see it destroyed a few years from now...I was so envious, I wondered if I should tell you what I just said, but I suppose I feel sympathetic for you two. I hadn't seen much color on our floor, you and Alan simply made that gray aisle look colorful." Without another word, Grell turned back and left the room. The double doors slammed shut and Eric couldn't do any more than to hold Alan's hand and contemplate what he should do.

He looked at his own hands. They were the hands of a worker and a lover, never a killer, but he vowed to sin for Alan.

* * *

 

A week had passed, Alan roused himself from his fever, he awoken with a painful groan. He somehow brought himself to sit up, he glanced around the Infirmary, only to find it was empty and it was morning. He noticed a batch of erica flowers sitting in a vase by his bedside, along with a little card. He reached over to it and to read the words, it was slightly messy but it was clearly Eric's penmanship:

 _I dropped by the shop and got you these, I know you love them_  
_-Love, Eric_

Alan gave a warm smile and placed the note back. Little did he know that Eric stolen those flowers from a funeral he created.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Much Later-

The night of November fifth was a special night to all the English, both reaper and human beings alike. It was Guy Fawkes Night, known as Bonfire Night, it consisted of bonfires.

To Grell, every year, he would go off to any of the majestic fires to witness its crimson blazes dance about with the gatherings of all folk, young and old, singing and playing their own jibes. Pagan traditions would be reborn and taken up in the heat of the festivities. As much as it was more of a human based holiday, a good majority of the Shinigami who originated from England celebrated as well but not so as extravagantly as Grell would do so.

While Grell frolicked with humans the reapers in his world had a bonfire of their own in the town square (which was fairly large mind you) of the London Division; there, it allowed a bonfire to burn freely without the hazard of catching the offices or commercial buildings ablaze. There was quite a fever developing this year in particular and Grell, before his departure to the human realm, had decided to stay a while to see what the hoopla was about.

This year, Grell was dressed in a, what appeared to be, near to whorish fashion with his thighs exposed to show a bit of some frail undergarment that threatened to apart within the second of walking. The hem of his dress dragged against the asphalt, his top was every the more flimsy; he looked more of a bar-tending waitress just waiting to be violated in the most dirtiest of ways. His long, scarlet hair was in a bun that threatened to loosen itself at the drop of a hat.

Proudly he strutted amongst the crowd of reapers that had began their own rave, whooping and running about like madmen with a torch was what some of the men done while the women danced along with their more chivalrous men when music was played somewhere amongst the Shinigami.

However, he was disappointed.

There was not much to do, the men with fire were such brutes and the cute ones were already taken.

He swore he saw Eric and Alan hand in hand and hand to waist going about with the music, Grell frowned and decided to look for Ronald. But, like the devil was there, Grell spotted Ronald howling amongst the young reapers, prowling in a predatory manner towards a group of girls that were giggling madly. Grell grimaced as the women of the Shinigami Realm so easily offered themselves up for Ronald and his friends.

So far all, save for Grell, was having fun.

Grell stared at his friends mingling with one another then he pushed passed a few drunks to go out into the nearly clean air of the street. The oak burned for the fire radiated an alluring scent but he swore he could smell drugs smoked in the air. Coughing slightly, he went passed a booth where drinks were served outside of the party and he went off to the darkness where the fire began to illuminate less of the town. Grell sighed.

Seeing this made him dispassionate about this year's Guy Fawkes Night so he decided to go to the offices where he knows where one, the only English Shinigami, lone man was destined to go overtime for the night. Grell traversed out of the rave for the office district. In over a minute he found himself at the glass doors; the guard, who dressed casual for his jeans and pinstriped shirt, sat upon a stool next to a desk behind the glass doors.

He looked up to see Grell, eyes wide at the garish appearance, then he hesitated to open the door. Grell humbled about on his person and, thankfully, had his I.D. on him to confirm his authorization into the work area. After the man checked him, he nodded and allowed him to go while saying,"Mister...um, Miss-"

"Miss," Grell corrected over his shoulder.

"Miss, I'm leaving for the night so I'm going to set this door to auto lock. Once it closes, you can't get out of here and no one can get in here," he warned him, Grell shrugged it away,"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. You can lock the door, I have the key upstairs."

The guard hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't come back here until six tomorrow-"

"Just go."

And then Grell heard the glass door close shut. He sighed sadly and went on for the elevator. A few of the lights were turned on for the sake of any Shinigami that would work overtime. Grell pressed for the floor that William worked on and was there in a matter of seconds, he found himself standing in front of the door; the light was lit inside since he could see a crack of it shining through.

Grell never knocked, he simply entered with a glorious cry of,"William~!"

Oddly, the lights were off. He entered, he saw the dark oak desk, a black object that stood out from the blanched color of the room. William's chair was of white leather, matching the color scheme of the monotonous room; beyond there desk were three windows that were the size of a man, only wider and stretching as far as a dozen feet to the ceiling. From here, Grell could have a clear view of the festival in town. To his left was a lonesome plant and to the right the light switch was ready to be clicked.

His hand reached for it and the room was immediately illuminated.

_He's not here...well then, I should go to Sebas-chan~_

Grell pouted and slapped the switch off, he had the supposition of William leaving for home was only an hour or so Grell arrived. The redhead turned heel and slammed the door closed, he fumed and took several hallways down to his own office.

Unlike William's, it was vibrant with color, an ethereal of perfume filled the air when he opened the door. He smiled at the scent, since it calmed him, and turned on the light switch to look around. His own desk was a redwood one, painted and polished to look like velvet; there was only a singular window to his right that was only suited for getting air in and out of the office. It was smaller than William's and felt more cramped up with the towers of books and paper stacked throughout the room unattended for.

He went around to the red desk and opened the drawers, inside were a variety of nail products, polishes, and cutters. He searched it for the keys that would allow him to leave the offices but the key was not there. He fumed and looked at the hook on the door where he would normally hang his coat. The latter was missing from its place, he cursed,"Shit, it's at home."

Grell refused to look any more for anything that was not even there and decided to plop himself into the reclining swivel chair. His dress was ready and there was nobody to show it off to. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking of what to do. He could bring out his chainsaw and slash his way through the windows. That was always useful and he can pin the damage on someone else if he could pull it off. He thought carefully and then had the machine in his hands.

He got up, turned off the light, and left the room.

The trip to the front doors of the building were a breeze, he revved up th engine for the rotating blades to turn on. Positioning himself in front of the glass door he thrust the blades at the glass, hoping for it to shatter from impact but amazingly, it felt as though the chainsaw bounced off the glass. As he done it once more, it finally clicked to him that only a month ago, all the windows and doors were replaced with death scythe proofed glass to avoid any damages in case a fight would break out.

And the replacement was only made two weeks ago. Grell couldn't even dent the glass.

Frustrated, he stopped the machine and held it by his side, waiting for the security guard to come by.

_Didn't he say he won't be back until six?_

It was exactly 12:54 in the morning, Grell would have to wait for five hours. His heels clicked against the tiles as he went over to where the security guard's desk was. He saw there for a while and found the floor plan of the building. Curious, he looked at it and saw that it showed every single floor and room of the building, various exits, stairs, and even a ladder for some odd reason. A few minutes later, he lights above him flickered off. He remembered that lights go off at 1:00.

He grimaced.

"Stupid curfew hours-"

And then he heard a door slam shut close by. He leaped a mile out of his chair, ready to defend himself but realized he was a god of death, there was nothing to fear. Hell, he can wave a chainsaw while singing in soprano and still never get his clothes bloodstained. But the door slammed just a second ago, his brows furrowed and he decided to fallow the one who caused it with the intent of punishing the punk that had decided to play games with him.

His heels clicked and clacked, he found a door to the staircase wide open. He scoffed and began to ascend the stairs; he glanced upwards to see that the fire outside shinned through the windows, giving the stairway a reddish color.

_What a romantic setting...for Poe._

When the thought crossed his mind, and as he decided to look upwards completely, he saw a shadow zoom in and out of sight. "Hey! You brute!" He shouted, and he gave chase. One heel snapped under the run, he cast both pairs out; it was from a whore and of poor quality, he could steal another pair. For insurance he summoned his chainsaw and pursued the owner of the shadow until he was brought up to his and William's floor; he had no idea how he ended up there but he could only say that he was just running to capture the shade.

He was amongst the room with cubicles, he peered over some of the walls to find who he was after.

Grell was a fairly tall Shinigami so he could easily peek over two cubicles at a time. He went on and found Ronald's cubicle, it was in array but somewhat organized. There were several letters stashed away between the desk and wall, he grabbed one and opened it. In the dim light shined through the window he could make out an elaborate penmanship but he failed to distinguish what it said. Out of respect he put it back in place and scanned the desk for anything interesting but found nothing of significance, he traveled around from desk to desk, seemingly forgetting exactly who he was after.

He found that Susie was having an affair with Harris; Peter nearly won a million Guinness from a steeplechase but lost all of his money when his horse loss; Jenny was pregnant for the fifth time; Fischer was ready to abandon Jenny. He forayed through other personal items, oh, what gossip he'll have for tomorrow! He was giddy in his excitement!

As he ruffled through Mary's diary he caught a wisp of tobacco in the air. He placed th book down and remembered that he was chasing somebody.

It was quiet but he heard the sharp taps of someone in the distance, it stopped but the silence was fallowed by a door creaking open and then closing gently as though not to wake anybody that slept. Lips twitched but his senses took over; there was something amiss. The security guard wouldn't have locked the doors if he knew there were other Shinigami in there but curfew had already came to be so the likeliness of a Shinigamo sleeping over were very slim.

He wanted company all of a sudden, being alone in the darkness of the offices irked the redhead so he pushed himself to go for the office door that closed. He turned around and found himself standing in front of the office of Eric Slingby.

His hand touched the handle, it was warm as though someone held their flesh to the brass handle for a long time. There was a bit of hesitation; he saw through the cracks that the lights were on, which was unnatural since the building would cut off its own power after curfew. He hear the sound calm inhales and exhales and the smoke came pouring out. Grell though he was opening a door to Hell. He bit his lip.

"Why're you hesitating? Open the damn door!" Came a gruff, husky voice from the inside, Grell sworn he only knew one reaper that had that manly tone. It was Eric, but how can he-

Grell opened the door and found Eric sitting at his desk with a cigarette at hand and an ashtray to his left side. The blond lacked his blazer and vest, he wore his dress shirt in a languid manner and his tie was loose. Grell stood at the threshold as though he had seen a ghost.

The truth was that he was seeing a ghost. He was frozen where he was, petrified with fear as Eric stared at him, then, as if it could be any casual than horrifying, the blond glanced about the room and addressed Grell,"Good evening...looks like no one's moved into my office, huh? But no one's keeping it clean either, guess you can't care for the dead..." He exhaled and shifted his gaze back to Grell. "A bit dressed up like a whore there, you're just a ball of sanctimony right there!"

Eric threw his head back and laughed hard.

As he laughed, Grell could only rasp out,"How come you're alive? I saw your soul and Alan's go up and away! You died and that was nearly a year ago!" Eric suddenly mollified his laughter and glared at him.

"Yeah, y'know that tip you gave me a while back, getting a thousand souls to get rid of the Thorns of Death? I got a thousand alright but Alan's never counted, I'm dead but I still never got what I wanted so...I crawled my ass all the way from Hell to get here, just to catch you here. Honestly, humans should know what they're doing! Setting up bonfires...it's calling all these nasty monsters out of that inferno! I'm not a monster, I was placed there because I couldn't hold back my frustration, better yet because of you, Grell, I'm stuck there!"

Grell looked down. "My apologies, but I never thought you would actually fall for it, I mean...I was only going to see if you truly loved Alan, of course, woe be told, you were out killing more than I can count and it was too late to stop your spree-"

Eric slammed his hand on the table. "I was at nine hundred and ninety-nine souls, Grell, all those innocent lives topped off by Alan's!" He shouted furiously, Grell flinched. "So, in technicality, I'm still at nine hundred and ninety-nine." His voice softened and he spoke warmly,"I never reached a thousand but tonight I shall."

"A thousand? And what soul do you want? I can tell you, nobody here is pure and if you're staking for my soul then you can forget about me! I'm not as pure as you put it with those other women that reached your criteria for pureness!" Grell threw himself into a panic. He was willing to reject his feminism to avoid death by a ghost. Grell tried to think rationally but the sight of Eric speaking to him had shuffled his mind into an array of cards that were scattered and unable to sort themselves properly. He startled himself when he bumped into the door frame. "Ahn!"

"Your soul is what I want to drag back to Hell with me," Eric growled so suddenly, the door closed and an unseen force threw Grell into the dusty office; the blond got up and locked the door with a key, he slit it under so that Grell could not escape. Grell let out a yelp when he felt Eric's shoe hit him stair in the ribcage. Now he could feel him, he just struck him and he was no mere ghost; he looked up to see Eric's eyes and, much to his fear terror, found that they were not the usual green with emerald ringed irises.

They were a violent shade of red mixed with maroon; Eric was converted into a demon after his demise and Grell was going to be his very first victim.

"Oh God, oh Jesus, oh no," Grell whimpered weakly, he was sprawled onto the carpet with the demonic ex-Officer looming over him, ready to barrage him with the most terrifying acts he could thin of. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I lead you to a life of crime! I was jealous, I told you that before! You just had the perfect life with Alan, I found it unfair to have not even a taste of that love you two shared! Please! S...spare me and take someone other than me-"

And Grell was slugged across the jaw. He screamed and shut his eyes, he felt a heavy weight mount itself over his. Grell squarely kicked him in the groin, the man groaned painfully and Grell scrambled to his feet, he ran to the door but then remembered that Eric had locked the door and shoved the key under. Fear took over and the redhead lost consciousness of his mind, it forced him to open his mouth widely and bite at the handle of the door until it was ultimately crushed by his jaws.

He tried to push the door opened but remembered that the doors open inward only.

Grell was cornered, Grell was grabbed by is ankles, Grell was dragged towards the once dead Shinigami, now turned demon.

"Please!" Grell begged, only to have his skirt ripped to shreds. He could see that Eric lacked those important glasses and gloves, he could see the nails had turned black, a clear sign he had lost any sort of humanity in him. For all Grell knew, Eric could only be using his former appearance to disguise a much more terrifying one. The man had him pinned down, he dipped his head down and growled in Grell's ear,"If you can find a way to escape or avoid me until opening hours then I'll let you keep your soul...and I probably won't violate you. But to get things started..."

A rough hand was brought under the shreds of the skirt Grell work, it wrapped around a soft length and gently squeezed. Eric chuckled at the sound of Grell's helpless whimper, then he grinned when the redhead looked ready to shed a tear. There was not much the redhead could do, he was stuck in a room, he forced himself to push out the danger of Eric and embraced the sexuality of it all. Grell may have been overconfident but he could so easily avoid Eric in this game.

"A...alright, I suppose we can start like this," Grell began, his confidence was, however, missing. Eric smirked.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

He took a sharp breath when he felt Eric's weight shift downwards to where the seems of his skirt had been torn.

"Uhn!" Grell squeaked, that firm hand was suddenly stroking him, firmly and teasingly. Those cold fingers were stroking him, he swore he heard Eric groan in approval and even close his eyes in a nostalgic way. Perhaps the former Officer was thinking about his last lover, he may as well be trying to imagine Grell as Alan. His gaze was torn from Eric when he felt a sharp, excruciating pain his mouth and tongue.

The shards of metal in Grell's mouth, when scraped against is inner cheek, caused him to bleed. He could taste, he could smell, the metal that so easily filled his mouth. The more he squirmed his head, the more those shards had spontaneously cut the pudgy flesh even deeper. Until he felt his mouth filling itself with over a pint of the crimson liquid, he suddenly spat it out. Blobs of red stained his front, he felt sick all of a sudden.

To begin with, he was never aroused by Eric; he had been absolutely terrified at him.

Seeing that blond hair mixed with black sitting between his legs never felt, in any way, right. Grell wanted to cry out, and he did. He stopped abruptly when he heard Eric growl in frustration. The floor was uncomfortable and Grell wanted to get away as fast as he can.

_The door!_

He knew that he chomped the door's knob to pieces, he just spat the shards out of his mouth! With Eric's stature atop of him, grounding him to the floor, Grell was at loss of what to do. If he could lift his arm to the right above him he could grab the bottom edge of the door and pry it open. Grell looked at Eric to see that he had suddenly knelt back and, with eyes still closed, was busy readying himself for the violation of the redhead ahead of him.

Taking the opportunity of being free of Eric's burden, Grell took a form hold of the door and yanked it open. He barreled towards Eric's desk and took another hold of the door, this time the side of it, to give it power to fly at Eric. Unknowing of the door, the blond was hit squarely in the face and knocked back, Grell kicked himself upwards, he pushed himself to his feet with a jolt and took off, scrambling at first, he even had the conscious to drag the door and slam it shut. Hearing Eric roaring in displeasure, Grell turned after he sprinted the first ten yards of the cubicle-filled office room.

The door was beleaguered from the other side by Eric's bear-like hands, they rattled and pounded against the threshold. Grell's mind, though spinning, thought that Eric was born a blond, died as a blond, and was resurrected as a blond even though blond was never his actual hair color. It would take only a moment until Eric could figure out that the door only opened inward, even if it does open correctly, Grell would be ready.

Grell summoned his chainsaw and readied it, the engine purred after a dramatic swing to the side.

As much as Grell thought the door would burst open, it only creaked open, slowly. Ominous feelings came pouring out from between the cracks that became gaps. The lights were still on and Grell could see Eric on the floor, on his knees, with his head looking down at the carpet that had been newly splashed in blood from Grell. The redhead brushed his lips over his shoulder to clean himself of that liquid; he swallowed a mouthful but then spluttered out another at the sight of Eric's tongue, now out and inhumanly long, licking up the mess upon his floor.

He saw that long muscle flick away at the blood, he saw those lips curling into a twisted smile. When Eric appeared to be done, he withdrew his tongue back into his mouth and shot his head up to look over at Grell. That smile stretched itself, and on his fours, he looked like a prowling beast that seemed to say,"You taste perfect."

And so, that beast sprung from his place, eyes wide open and glowing violet, for Grell, who swooped his chainsaw left and right towards him, shouting,"Get back! Go back to Hell! You're damned enough as it is!"

At one point, in the middle of a swing, Eric had come a bit too close and was caught up in the rotating blades. Grell heard the ripping of flesh and the grinding of bones but he pushed on, gorging the machinery into Eric's torso. Blood splashed against Grell and the windows, along with the soaking of nearby desks and chairs. He tore further until he felt a hand upon his shoulder, it was familiar, it was warm, and it was William. Grell never had to look at him, he just knew it.

Over the racket he cried,"Will!" and quickly finished the job of cleaving Eric across the middle. The blond fell to the floor and twitched, his face showed that he was shocked. Grell sent his chainsaw away and whirled around to throw his arms over William, but much to his dismay, the raven haired Shinigami was nowhere to be seen, and that touch was missing as well.

"...William?" Grell spoke out, he waited a few seconds and glanced everywhere; perhaps he was hallucinating? Of that were the case then Eric would not be in front of him. Grell brought his eyes to look at where Eric would supposedly be; Eric was not there. In fact, any traces or evidence of Eric being there were gone. He looked ahead to see that even the office's lights were turned off. "...no..."

He wanted to say Eric's name but he feared that it would summon the demon by accident. Grell slapped himself in the face, it was a meek attempt to wake himself up but he was still standing there, covered in his own blood, somewhat exhausted from struggling against something that was never there. Grell pushed the mysterious events to the back of his mind, he denied Eric was back from the dead and that William was by his side. Sighing out of relief, Grell could only plot what he could do to get out of where he was.

In the distance he could see the bonfire still roaring at the square.

"You're still trying to escape me."

The rasp of that whisper made Grell jump and mile and swirl around to face the owner of the voice. To his horror, Grell was alone in the darkness.

He wanted to escape now, he glanced around to face the window and found that there were letters freshly painted in blood upon the glass. Grell could only read it briefly, then he found himself with the urge to run the Hell out of the office. In his mind, he heard himself unconsciously say what was said on the window.

_I need to get out of here._

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

-Last Monday-

"Exactly how many demons are registered in the United Kingdom?"

"About three...maybe five, I forget that."

_Clink! Clink! Clink!_

"That's good. Good?"

"Average I guess. Not much to say really, not much..."

"Then angels?"

_Clink!_

"According to Christian traditions they're classified as demons, so we classify them as demons as well. But if you want to be specific, they're hard to keep tabs on."

_Ding!_

"How come- ah, shit! The ink!"

"Mother of all that can fuck...I hate this job."

Lacey shifted around in his seat and grabbed the closest towel to tab atop the already printed documents. The pot-bellied worker cursed while his brother got up gathered whatever they could save, both were nearly two thirds of the way done of typing up documents until the ink cartridge had suddenly popped and spewed ink all over the desk; it was profusely staining the documents and the paper was soaking it all quite happily. His brother, much more leaner and taller, attempted to dab the ink until the bell for the shift to end resounded throughout the building.

"That's it, I'm going to America, they got things better than this crap they call technology," Rivers mused, he grimaced at the ink that had settled quickly into his dress shirt,"fuuuuuuck."

"You just love saying that, don't you?"

"What? Fuck? Yeah, it's my vocabulary-"

"No, America. I heard Eric Slingby spent some time there, maybe you should ask him before shooting your ass over there. All I've heard is that once you get there, you never come back. Hell, I'd laugh if you end up doing the same shit there like here," Lacey chuckled as he tried to save the papers that were dry and untouched. The two frantically dried whatever they could and eventually counted the ones that were soiled beyond recognition.

An hour passed on, they had finished recovering the papers, but then Rivers paused slightly when he glanced over one article that had a name written across the page in red.

"Hey, do we have colored ink?" Rivers asked dumbly. Lacey turned over to him and was handed a piece of paper that had Grell Sutcliff's name embedded upon it in crimson letters. He scrutinized it as Rivers spoke once more,"That looks like Eric's writing, I recognize it anywhere, the man pays tabs with the same penmanship."

"...run that up to Spears," Lacey uttered, handing it back to his brother. The warm air between the two had grown colder by the second as Rivers rushed out of their miniature office. Lacey sighed and looked over at River's desk to see an old photograph of him and Eric from years before; the three were posing in front of an English pub during their trainee mission, waving at the camera wildly, smiling.

-Present Day-

Grell licked his lips. He found himself within William's office. He had no idea how or exactly when he arrived, he was just there. The door was locked behind him, he was currently resting himself against the freezing solid of it as his mind began to race.

Eric's come back, he wants me dead. This is real, this could be fake, I could have drank something...no, I won't wake up! I must be dreaming!

He began to sum up the odds that have turned against him. Only seconds ago he was at the high risk of being brutally raped by Eric Slingby, only seconds ago he slaughtered him with a single blow from his death scythe, and only seconds ago Eric had vanished without a trace. His heart pounded in his chest, he was waiting for Eric to appear, he wanted him to appear to prove to himself that he was not losing his mind to something that was not there.

"This is maddening," he uttered, leaving the door and traveling to William's desk. He had down upon the white leather chair and bent to the side to open a drawer. Luckily, William never locked or had any security for most of his things. Grell thanked William silently when he found a flashlight within the top drawer; safety was something William had a knack for, from time to time they would have a power outage and only the Supervisors had access to the power grids.

Yes, it is a peculiar law but that is just how things are.

Grell struck it against his palm to jog the batteries into operation; he flicked the switch and was relieved that light illuminated from it. He turned the light upon the other drawers and began to rifle through them. There was not much of a surprise when he found that all the things William kept were strictly documents regarding souls up for collection and other commodities to his work. Grell sort of expected that there would be a gigantic file stowed somewhere among the organization but he seemed somewhat disappointed to find that there was none.

Eventually, just as earlier, Grell had gotten carried away from the joy of going through private property. Well, to be exact, it was not exactly considered private if it belonged to the Dispatch Society. He grew bored of going through documents and files and eventually found a leather booklet stashed away in the bottom drawer behind a lot of other files. Grell eyed it and instantly nabbed it from its once covert place. His hand held it to the light and he found that the leather was free of any markings indicating any sort of ownership.

"William's perhaps," he mumbled, it looked too bland to be anyone's journal. He placed it to the table and opened it, but then a folded piece of paper came out and fluttered to the ground with a soft _pat!_ and rumple. He turned the light to it and picked it up.

Deftly he opened it with two fingers from one hand, he was shocked to find his name written in red across the paper.

He wondered why William would have it in his possession. It was a document used to profile souls. The boxes that would fit the profile were empty but his own name stood out from it. The date in the upper right hand corner told him that the Mason brothers, which consisted of Rivers Mason and Lacey Mason, had printed this articular document about six days ago. His eyebrows furrowed. The handwriting was messy, he could never tell who exactly wrote this but his mind wanted to tell him that it was Eric who had done it.

"I gave him a fair warning, he just tucks it away in his diary-"

Grell whirled around and pointed the flashlight at whoever he thought made that statement. His heart slammed in his throat when all that he found was nothing but the windows and the glow of the fire a while away. Eyes darting left and right, he tried to collect himself and he spoke out sharply,"What the fuck are you talking about! ?"

All he was doing was talking to a window. He huffed and tried to deny Eric's existence.

"You're not real, not real at all," he uttered.

Eric was just a hallucination, nothing more than a bloody figment of his imagination.

He crumpled up the paper in his fist and attempted to throw it at the waste basket a little ways away from the desk. Unfortunately it missed, he attempted to get up but he was thwarted by a pair of hands that had gripped his thighs, keeping him tethered to the seat of the chair.

He yelped and the voice rasped,"Deny me and I will deny you of your sanity."

"Y-you!" Grell shouted, hands pounding the armrest, he dropped the flashlight and he tried to go after it until he felt something blunt prod against his crotch. Grell froze up in horror and began to wonder what exactly was touching his vital region. Parts of it was wet, he discovered that when he tried to close his legs together and made contact with it slightly. Grell could only imagine it to be Eric's abnormally long tongue, which he had seen earlier when it licked up the blood from the carpet.

"You guessed it."

The reply could only confirm Eric's being was underneath Grell, using that inhuman muscle to seduce him. Grell felt blood course through him and he grew heated, a chuckle came from below the desk, it was an indication that his length had instantly grew responsive to Eric's lone muscle.

He felt himself flush his body a million times over as Eric took both hands and spread Grell's legs as wide as he could. When the limbs failed to go at his preferred width Eric pushed against the chair that Grell had sat upon, causing the redhead to roll out of the desk and into the open where Eric crawled after him in an almost inhuman manner. Grell's eyes fell to the demon in horror. The fact that the tongue was still extended was enough to cause his heart to begin pounding within his ears.

One of Eric's hands left, briefly, to rip apart the flimsy undergarment that prevented the already hardening length from reached towards the ceiling. Grell tried to edge away but Eric's hand returned to its position to Grell's bare knee. Eric had his mouth agape, a trickle of saliva began to seep out the corner of his mouth while he opened it wider to allow the tongue's base to have more room to move around. When he had done this, the tip of it went under the skirt to coil itself around Grell's length; it started from the shaft, wrapping about the head, and then ending at the pinnacle where Eric began to flick his tongue over.

Grell straggled down a grunt, he bit down a groan, and he squirmed down a moan.

This felt utterly wrong, there was no arousal to this, and yet Grell felt that this was the most scandalous thing he could do to enter a new territory regarding different ways for titillation. For the most part, however, he was being violated while being within a state of shock. Grell's breath hitched, his hands gripped the armrest, his nails dug in and pierced the leather as he tried to prevent his hips from pressing itself against Eric's devilish flesh.

His eyes were fixed upon Eric, the latter was staring up at him with those calm, apathetic eyes that roared hatred towards him. Grell cringed when he saw the smile upon Eric's face twist and contort in unnatural ways, he was torn between arousal and fear when Eric wrapped that muscle around Grell firmly enough to force a low groan from him.

A chuckle came from the Shinigami turned demon as Grell dropped his head back into the leather headrest to avoid looking down at Eric.

"Nooooo, oh noooooo," Grell managed to murmur out as the tongue began to act spasmodically. The contractions around him made his eyes role back and his breaths to sharpen. His throat tightened and caused him to squeal just slightly, he emanated a strained sound that sounded like nails to a chalkboard. Not realizing how far he as going more into arousal, Grell unconsciously began to rock his hips just slightly to force his length in and out of the tight ring that the tongue had taken shape of.

Eric began to fallow Grell's shifting movements and eventually met his demands. Eric smirked as the tip of his tongue flickered over the slit.

"No," was all he could say, Grell's mind was hazy and the room's darkness began to devour him. He closed his eyes and pretended that this was anyone but Eric, and that wish suddenly came true when he felt his glasses slip off the bridge of his nose and then land on his chest with a soft pat. Grell opened his eyes with only a few breaths to take, he noticed that Eric had seemingly vanished.

All he could see was a dark void, just nothing. Only darkness. Grell had the urge to speak up until the seemingly invisible tongue constricted around his shaft and sent him reeling over the edge too fast and too soon. He saw his essence splatter over something solid and yet it looked as though it were suspended in midair. The tightness around himself slowly uncoiled its being and retracted contact from him though he watched in utter horror as the whiteness slowly vanished as if the tongue was licking it up by dabs.

Grell fixed himself upon the chair, his hand went to his face to place his glasses ahead of his eyes.

A slide from the frames returning to its proper place revealed Eric kneeling before him with those devilish eyes still glaring up at him, his tongue slurping whatever was left of Grell.

Eric's mouth twitched when he took in what was upon his face, his lips curled back in a smirk. "Come with me to Hell Grell Sutcliff," he offered to the redhead as his tongue finished its job and returned to his mouth,"you'll experience more of this-"

And then Grell brought a full fist into Eric's mouth and sent him off to the side. With only a few seconds to spare, Grell instantly leaped forth from William's white leather chair and snatched the flashlight upon the ground a few feet opposite of Eric. His hand free hand scrambled for the diary that was right by Eric's foot. He heard the demon groan in pain but quickly recover from the sudden attack. Grell's heart slammed in his throat and he clutched at the leather cover and sprinted for the door.

Much to his horror he found that he locked it. He placed the items in one hand and feverishly unlocked it by turning the thumb-latch.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" Grell screamed when Eric began to crawl towards him upon the ground. The door opened when he pushed and turned the knob, he was out in the open hallway but the problem was Eric being right behind him by his heel. Instinct kicked in and Grell waited for a few brief, heart-pounding moments for Eric to be at the right angle.

Right angle meant that Eric would where his head would be between the door and its frame. Eric still crawled to him at breakneck speed, it was like watching a dreaded movie when the predator was closing in upon its victim. And Eric was closing in on Grell quite rapidly; the redhead dropped his items to the floor the minute he saw a mesh of blond at the threshold. With all his strength, Grell propelled the door strait into Eric's head, smashing it against the frame.

Eric howled in agony and yet Grell screeched above him.

"DIE!"

And the action was repeated once more, only with more force. Though with every slam to Eric's head was made, a tear from Grell's eyes came to land upon Eric.

"You're fucking dead, stay dead!"

The sickening crush and crack of the skull made Grell want to hit him even harder; the door rattled with every blow to Eric's head. The demon began to holler, Grell looked away to avoid seeing his barrage change the shape of Eric's head. A few more assaults passed on and the shouts died away though Grell emitted the only sounds from his throat as he choked upon his own words.

Grell wept,"You're dead...you're dead...oh god...god, oh god..." And as if the mutilation was not enough, Grell continued on with the door. "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL HERE! ?"

Eventually, the head came apart. Eric ceased to be a convenient door stopper, for his bone, flesh, and skin gave way for the door to close. And Grell slammed it shut, he threw his back against it and brought himself to a kneeling position upon the ground. His feet squished something warm and fleshy, his back pressed against the freshly painted door that was splattered in blood, and his eyes were now streaming with tears. This was what pure fear tasted like.

He removed his glasses and cried into his hands.

Grell was violated, he just murdered a former coworker, and now he was alone.

In the reality of things, this was never a proper way to kill a demon. Sure, you can lop off its head but it will still come back to life. The realization of this came to Grell when he felt the warmth around him ebb away into sheer coldness. He dared to look up and found that Eric's body fluids and part of his head had gone missing. Grell shirked over nothing, he was alone to a monster. He was scared. He felt that he could never collect himself to push forward, he knew he could never do that after the trauma he went through.

Eric was playing his game, he has Grell where he wanted him and possibly even the state he would want him in.

Eric was winning.

"I can't do this," Grell rasped,"I can't...can't."

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be technical...this was tentacle rape, right?


	5. Chapter 5

His sobs broke when a quite voice told him,"Yes you can."

Grell's eyes were drawn to a black figure at the end of the hallway.

"Will?" He squeaked out.

His eyes were blurred and he dared to blink. He couldn't tell what he saw or who spoke for the matter. His hands shakily placed his glasses back on and saw saw just a bit more clearly. Tears swelled in his eyes once more and he brought his hands under the lenses to wipe them away. He sniffled and hiccuped, and then a hand was upon his shoulder.

Instinctively, his eyes welded themselves shut. "Please, not again...not you," he pleaded,"I'll do anything, just stop..."

Grell shook his head and then another hand went to his cheek to hold his head in place. He was forced to open his eyes and, much to his relief and utter joy, it was William. Touching him. Attempting to comfort him. Assuring him that he would live out of this ordeal. Grell was in disbelief, his hands went to touch William by his shoulders, to see if he was as real as Eric.

And he was. In the flesh, William was before him.

"William," he breathed desperately. He broke down into sobs and he went from his squat to his knees. William took the liberty to hold him, his hand running up and down his back soothingly.

"Shush, Grell, you'll be alright," William told him calmly. Grell clung to him. "I know you want to leave. You want to live, don't you?"

"Y-yes, I want to live," Grell wept, his face burrowed into William's shoulder,"please...take me away from here. I'm so...I'm so scared. I'm scared, William, I want to go home-"

William gently took Grell out of the tight grasp to face him directly. Those brilliant green eyes were stern and cold, yet seeing them gave Grell the will to fight Eric and escape this horrible place. Staring into them, Grell's eyes began to dry slowly, his weeping abated and he knew that being in William's arms would drive away the nightmare that pursued him. "If you want live, listen to me."

"What-" He was confused but a finger went to his lips to silence him.

"Do as I say, Grell, do as I say," he firmly commanded. Grell nodded in compliance. "Avoid Eric for as long as you can."

"That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. Now close your eyes."

"No, you're going to leave me," he said, but then he was drawn to do ask instructed. When he opened his eyes after a moment, the comfort was immediately replaced with the terror of loneliness. He was on his knees, alone, in the hallway. He looked at himself to find the dress tattered, his hair was disheveled, and his body screamed to the world that he was assaulted.

The flashlight that was dropped earlier had rolled a bit away. He took it to hand and clicked the switch. For a strange reason, the light pouring out from the bulb was comforting. He grasped it taut and he got to his feet. If he wanted to live, he would have to do as William told him.

* * *

 

He was in the cubicle area once again. His mind raced as he tried to think. A block was on a desk, he saw that it said 1:45.

Curfew was well passed the mark. He knew little of how Eric could manifest himself into the Shinigami realm, and he cared less. But what was brought to his attention was why William was there. He was sure that the man had left the offices to go home and yet he was there, touching him. He was very much alive as he was.

The light was brought to shine on the farthest wall. An arrow painted in blood pointed towards the break room. Underneath it was the word,"HELP."

When was this made? He definitely didn't remember seeing this earlier, or ever. He was hoping it was William who wrote that, or some familiar face. He dreadfully needed the company. Cautiously, he went to the doors to the staff's lounge. He stopped and hesitated at the door's handle. He wanted to open it, to see what's inside, yet his instincts told him to turn back.

Clutching the flashlight tighter than before, his other hand took a hold of the handle and turned, he then opened it cautiously. The light poked into the room and he opened it wider to find a pair of legs suspended in the air in the middle of the room. The darkness made it hard to see; he drew the light up to follow the legs and found it to be someone in their office uniform with a potato sack over his head.

Then his eyes were drawn to the excessive amount of blood dripping to the ground. It was the back that was facing him. He stared, terrified to a point of where his limbs refused to move. The light was fixated upon the suspended reaper; he took note that several bundles of red and pink ropes were keeping the poor man suspended from the ceiling.

He waited, his body tense. Grell watched as the cadaver began to slowly rotated to face him.

It was an agonizing wait. Slowly enough, the front side was visible. Grell found that the torso had been torn open. The entrails were gutted out and he realized that they were used to hang the body. His eyes grew wide in horror.

He had never seen anything like this since his time as Jack the Ripper. There was so much blood, an insane amount; it was like he had forgotten how much there was within a body. He flashed the light at the table to see that various organs were strewn across their gray surfaces. He fought down the urge to scream and he backed away from the scene.

He closed the doors and tried to collect his thoughts. He brought his hand to his mouth and he bit it, drawing a bit of blood, but he cared less. He had to keep quiet. He didn't want Eric to know he was here. He didn't want to alert Eric at all. He had to think of a place to hide to wait out his time. There was about five hours left until the security guard would return and open the doors.

He thought of going to a storage closet, but he would easily be cornered. His eyes were growing heavy as though a sleeping spell was hitting him. He was tired. The stress of Eric pursuing him was taxing upon his body. He needed a place to rest, even if it were just a moment. It was stupid, he would be vulnerable, but his body ached for the comfort of sleep.

His mind shook the sleep from his eyes until a phone rang out of nowhere.

He was at alert. The ringing was coming from one of the cubicles, he raced down one aisle, following the noise, until he reached Ronald's desk. It was his desk phone that was ringing. Grell didn't hesitate to pick it up. He took it and answered timidly,"Hello?"

"H-hello?" It was a soft voice, a man's voice. "I-is this Grell?"

"Yes...this is Grell-"

"Grell!" The person sounded excited. "It's me. Alan! I never thought I could reach you! Or anyone...I've been trying for days..."

He thought of the bonfire. "I thought I saw you at the bonfire in town...you were dancing with Eric."

"Hm? Oh, it must be Guy Fawkes Night, right? I was only there for a moment, I saw him and danced for a bit but I had to return to Heaven. I was actually hoping to find you but my card to come to the living expired. Listen, I don't have much time, but Eric is trying to kill you."

Grell bit his lip, he stammered,"I already...I already know that...please, is there a way to stop him?"

"No, not at all. The answer I have to tell you, you won't like it. You're going to have to kill yourself-"

"What!? Are you insane? Why...I want to live!"

"Listen to me!" Alan snapped. "The circumstance you're in, the locks, the curfews, there's no way out. You need to die unless you want to be taken to Hell! You can't avoid Eric, he's too powerful and he's playing with your mind. He's probably watching you right now. I'm...I'm sorry, Grell, but there's no other way-"

"B-but William, he told me I can live, he said as long as I avoid Eric I'll be alright-"

"Grell, think, how many times has Eric assaulted you? How many times were you able to repel him? He'll come back, just to get you..."

His words drowned away. Grell felt a rage growing within him. A call from the other side...was telling him to kill himself, to give up, to lose. He wanted to live. He needed to live. Grell began to shout,"NO! _You_ listen to _me_! I'm...I'm going to live! I want to live, Alan, I don't care...I want to live, and I'm going to live!"

Alan's voice rose. "It's a dangerous game you're gambling yourself in!"

"Then let my life be the price of wanting to live!" He screamed back at him, he slammed the phone into the receiver; the clattering startled himself but he brushed it off when he heard clapping from across the room. His heart skipped several beats and he turned around to see Eric sitting in a swivel chair in a cubicle across from him. Grell's eyes were wide and he was ready should Eric pursue him.

"You want to live? You disregard advice from Heaven...just to live? How inspirational-"

"Shut up," Grell hissed,"the dead ought to stay dead."

Eric let out a hearty laugh. "And yet you're a god of death. Shouldn't you be silent yourself?"

"Reapers don't go back to haunt the people they knew in their past human lives! We stay dead to them!" Grell said, slowly backing out of the cubicle, ready to run if the demon moved.

"Human lives?" Eric nearly snorted with a laugh under his breath. He stayed where he sat, hands neatly folded in his lap, eyes focused on Grell. "The ones I knew are long gone, dead, reaped, buried, bound to books, gone. It's better to go after the ones that still live. At least you have the audacity to face me rather than turn your back on me."

He nodded towards the staff lounge. "The other one saw his end when he refused to look at me at all. Did you have a good look at him? I painted him red, gutted him, hung him by his guts; it'd put Jack the Ripper to shame. Tell me, where's that killer now? Why isn't he off to slay me?" He got up. "Why isn't Jack the Ripper taking his chainsaw and slaughtering me?...slaughtering me just like I did to that guy..."

"Why kill him? He had nothing to do with your death...Alan's death...He..." Grell frowned, wait. Just who was that reaper he had found? His head had been covered...and how had he gotten in? How long had there been someone who could have helped him before he died? Why hadn't the murdered reaper responded to his screams?

The redhead took another step back, swallowing around a lump that formed in his throat, the man had been innocent...wouldn't make him the final soul Eric was after? If so, why was the demon still tormenting him? Unless...

"He...isn't real. He's just another one of your tricks!"

"Are you sure he's real? You can go check for yourself," Eric suggested. He began to approach him but for a moment he paused. He smiled and lunged after him, hands reaching towards him. "Would you like to go see?!" His voice rose manically when he took a hold of Grell's wrist. He began to drag him towards the doors of the staff's lounge.

His leg kicked at the doors, causing the latch and knob to burst out of place. His hold on Grell was tight and his strength increased tenfold when he thrust Grell towards the hanging corpse. He laughed out of the hilarity when the impact between the corpse and Grell caused the intestines to snap, dropping the cadaver upon Grell.

"He's real enough to touch you!" Eric yelled as he approached a table where some organs were splayed across its surface. He took a fistful and threw it at Grell. "Is this real enough for you?!" He reached out for a heart and grasped it, testing its strength. It was still beating, it began to beat erratically in his grasp. "Tell me, you filthy whore!"

Disheveled, dressed in pretty much rags (he felt like a whore given that he was violated earlier), and now covered in blood, Grell scrambled to get out from under the corpse.

Normally, being covered in blood didn't bother him. It was a common occurrence when he got carried away on a collection, and blood was the color he was oh, so passionate about. However for a reason unknown to even himself; it disgusted him. He was absolutely revolted by it. Maybe it was because it was the blood from a coworker who should have never been caught up in this madness. He knew not, all he knew was that he was growing sick at everything.

"Stop!" Grell screamed out, backing up against the wall, smearing blood along its white paint as he moved along it. The only door to the room was blocked. Not completely, as the demon had moved towards the table, Eric was closer to the exit than he was.

But he had to risk it; running as fast as he could towards the door to escape and try to find a place to hide...anywhere to be safe, even for a moment.

"Where're you running, Grell Sutcliff?" Eric bellowed his deepest. He threw the beating heart out of the doors, barely missing Grell's head. He attempted to run after him but decided against it when the doors automatically closed behind Grell for some ungodly reason. "Damn it..."

The flashlight Grell had left was still on inside the cubicle, waiting to be picked up by its owner. It was still brightly lit, beckoning to be picked up.

Grell was surprised when he managed to escape the room, but he didn't stop. Running to the cubicle, he reached down, scooping up the flashlight and hurried towards the hall that would lead to the stairs. Pulling the door open, he started to run further up the tall building, taking the steps two at a time. His lungs burned in his chest from the running, something he hadn't felt since he had been human, but he pressed on, crying out as he reached the next level two stories above the one he had been at, his ankle twisting painfully as he landed on it wrong when he reached the final step.

"Fuck," he cursed, free hand nearly dropping the flashlight to grasp the railing. His breath hitched as he worked up the strength to regain his balance.

He limped to the door and pushed it open, stepping into the calm halls, seemingly untouched by the former reaper's demonic presence. Moonlight shown through the windows, casting a dim, blue light through the panes of glass. Grell leaned over a table, gasping to catch his breath as he stared threw the simple vase of lilies that decorated the otherwise empty surface.

The flowers were fresh with a small card left on the table nearby. When he reached it, his hands shakily unfolded the note to find that it the flowers were addressed to himself from William, along with a small note. The moonlight upon the lilies were making them in full bloom, strangely enough. He was perplexed by its cryptic beauty.

**Enjoy the scent.**

He gingerly ran his finger on the petal and found the texture to be soothing. His lungs burned and yet he was finding solace in such a simple object when he leaned closer to sniff the flowers. He managed to work out a slight smile but exhaustion began to take over. His eyes were growing heavy and he began to realize that the flowers smelled unnatural.

His eyes rolled back and he slipped off the edge of the table, his body falling limp to the ground as his vision began to fade away.

* * *

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

_Grell took in a deep breath, a pleasant smell filling him and bringing a smile to his lips. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking up at a clear black sky, stars glistening around the bright moon. Slowly he sat up. His mind thinking back to the horrors he had experienced...or had he? He was clean, his dress perfect as his skirts lightly covered the soft grass._

_Had he dreamed it all? Possibly. Maybe he had had a little too much to drink and his thoughts had turned decided to take a hold of him and give him an imagination that was beyond his comprehension. He rubbed his eyes and gave himself a second to stare at the full moon that beamed its rays upon him. He took in the scent of this world, it was refreshing, like a distant dream, nostalgia._

_Grell pushed himself to his feet, looking around. He found himself in a familiar park near the bridge to the Library. One he often went to to think as it had the most lovely red roses lining the paths. At times, he would see pairs of reapers sitting together in the glass, loving one another. The thought warmed him, he felt it before, but it was such a distant thing. Times had changed. Lives had shifted. He had accepted it. He smiled and went on._

_The rose path, one he had strolled so many times, seem to almost ask him to tread within it like he so often done so. The hoopla of Bonfire Night seemed to have died away, for the sight, sound, and smell of fire was nowhere to be present. He took in the fresh air and sighed, his body felt lively; he felt that he could almost skip._

_And skipped he did, his bare feet were barely touching the ground as he nearly glided by the flowers. He almost brought himself into euphoria at the beauty around himself. He smiled at this; he was away from the building, away from Eric, away from the horror. He slowly brought himself into a brisk walk, he decided to go upon the grass until something caught his wrist._

Always my wrist...

_He was twirled around, he complied to this and found himself face to face with William. Grell felt that his heart could burst any minute. He was free, here was with a familiar face, and he was safe. He immediately embraced the man and the man done so as well._

_"You've done well so far, Grell. Touch..." He pulled himself away from Grell, hand still holding Grell's wrist. He guided Grell's hand to his own face so that he could feel his skin. "I'm real, see? I'm just as alive as you are."_

_Grell blinked, his smile faltering, "Darling...why wouldn't you be real?" His eyes flickered around the park, expecting to see Eric. No. That was crazy. Everything had been an over-active dream. Eric was dead, and he'd stay dead. William must have meant something else. Alive...as in he had returned from a party? Parties were lively...it was unlike him, but Grell would rather have that be his reality._

_"Grell, I am real," he replied as though he disregarded Grell's obvious disparage and uncertainty. "You've made it this far. I'm more happier than anyone else can be for you right now. Please, Grell, I need you to listen to me and do as I say. You've done your best, I know it." He saw Grell's eyes wander, he gently shook him. "Focus on me, Grell, if you want to live."_

I...want to live, and I am doing so right now...

_"But...I'm alive."_

_His hand went to brush a strand away from Grell's eyes._

_"No Grell," William began softly,"right now you are asleep. You are under a grudge from Eric, the only way for you to be free is to sacrifice someone in place of yourself. You need to lure him to this floor and I will take care of the rest..."_

_Grell's eyes widened, "No..." he choked out, "No, this can't be real! It can't!" He began to tremble. "Will...Will, you can't leave me! Don't make me go back! I...I can't do this anymore!" He clung to the taller reaper, burying his face into his broad shoulder. "He's already killed someone! He won't stop until I'm gone!"_

_He tried to calm him, his hand went to the back of Grell's head to absentmindedly run his hand through his hair. He quietly spoke,"I'll end the nightmare if you just do this for me. I don't have that much time. Time is quite the intangible object, it's the bane to Shinigami as we are to humans. Do as I say and you'll be free."_

_Grell tightened his hold on William, "You promise? This'll all be over soon if...I lead him up to you?"_

_"It'll be over, all of it. Be quick, I know not how much longer I can stay in this world...my body is too damaged for my to manifest itself permanently." He held him closer. "I'm sorry Grell...I should have warned you about this."_

_Grell's eyes widened and he looked up at William, "' **Manifest** '? Did...did he get to you, too? or...do you just mean in my dream? No...that's not right..." he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I need to focus..."_

Manifest...is when a soul is within a body...

_He gazed into Grell's eyes. "I'm the one he butchered in the lounge. Grell, I'm **dead**."_

_"No...!" Grell's vision swam, the entire world around him morphing into a blur of color and fading away. "No! Will! You...You can't be! You're alive! You have to be alive! Darling, please! I love you...!" He pleaded, feeling the warm body he was clinging to, disappear. "You love me as well, you did...no, you still do, I know it! Will...William!"_

...William...William...William...William. William. William! **WILLIAM!**

He jerked upright into a sitting position. finding himself back in the office building. he vase of flowers had tipped over and rolled off the table, shattering on the floor.

The redhead lifted his hands, looking at the blood staining them...William's blood. He cried out a mix between a scream and a sob of pure sorrow and pain. His stomach twisted and he rolled onto his hands and knees, retching onto the floor.

He stayed there, trembling for a long moment, he knew not as to how much time passed during and after his dream. The moon was in the same place, he must have slept for at least an hour.

Finally, he pushed himself up onto shaky legs. He had to do as William asked...he had to. He would do **anything** for him. Slowly, he made his way back to the stairs and began to move down, wondering how he could lead Eric up again without being caught. His grip on the flashlight tightened at the thought.

His feet softly padded against the steps. The pain of his ankle shot through him but the fear and anxiety was much more powerful. The flashlight was shining at the flight of stairs, downwards towards the landing. His breathing became faint, he was trying to be as silent as possible.

After a long, strenuous journey to the floor with cubicles, his hand rested on the handle. He wondered if he should pray, and he did, quickly. He prayed that he would be able to lure Eric upstairs. Slowly, he opened the door. When he cracked it just half an inch, he saw a violet eye staring at him through the crack.

With a scream he threw himself back, regrettably. He managed to backwards down the flight of stairs nearby, he tumbled downwards until he came to an abrupt stop; he landed back first into the wall, his head hitting a railing on the way down. His vision blurred but the sound of boots thundering down the stairs above him forced him to become alert.

"It'd only be a matter of time before you came back here!" Eric's voice boomed. It echoed in the stairwell, making him sound grander than he would be.

_He's an animal. A beast. A demon..._

Wincing in pain, Grell pulled himself up and went up the steps again, passing the door and going half-way up the next flight before speaking, "What? Are you too weak to follow me? You are crazy if you think I'm going to come back to you!" He taunted, gripping the railing.

Eric snarled and began to thunder up the steps for him. His large stature was coming towards him at an inhuman speed, closing in had breakneck speed, his teeth began to show as he roared,"You're going to Hell with me, Grell, and you're going to come with me by daybreak! I'm not returning there empty handed!"

His hand gripped a railing and bent it out of sheer strength. The ripping of the metal tore through their ears as he took a bar off for a weapon.

"I'll rip you apart, just like the whore you are! You will suffer, just like me. Suffer!"

Screaming, Grell turned and fled as soon as Eric started after him with daunting threats. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his ankle, he ran back up to the floor with the flowers. He threw himself against the door to open it, gasping as it gave way and he stumbled back into the moonlit room. "William!" He screamed, running further into the spacious area, expecting Will to show up at any second to save him.

He forgot that there was a bit of water spilled from the vase when he knocked it over earlier. He slipped over the puddle and desperately tried to get back up, his hands clawing upon the white tiled floor. A startling bang told him that Eric had caught up; he yelped and kicked to gain some ground.

The struggle lasted for a few seconds and he scrambled to his feet, he ran further passed the table, up until he reached the middle of the hallway. He waited for William, and when he felt he was alone with Eric stalking him with the metal pole at hand, he shrieked,"WILLIAM!"

Alas, there was no response. He looked all around, there was nowhere else to go, nowhere to hide. He thew himself against the wall, he fell to his knees and hugged it; his fist pounded against it as though it would awaken William.

"You lied...YOU _LIED_!" Grell shouted, his hand hitting the wall some more. Tears swelled up in his eyes as he curled himself up into a ball; he would rather not see Eric's face when he would bring the pole up. _"YOU LIED TO ME!"_

He began sobbing, among that were the sounds of Eric's footsteps nearing him. His heart felt like it would give out. He would rather die than face him. He trembled violently when Eric's hand went to his hair and took a bunch into his first; he forced Grell to look at him.

"Now, now, I won't have none of that looking away shit when I kill you," Eric growled. His eyes, those horrid eyes, were terrifying Grell. The teeth had shown itself, he seemed to be losing traces of his human appearance, he was beginning to take the form of a demon. He was beginning to be more of a beast, something that would come out of nightmares. "I want your eyes to be open when I take you downstairs with me."

The white hallway, once bathed in the moonlight, was bleeding through with a black mist. The shadows were enclosing them, shrouding them up so that little light could pass through. It was quiet save for Grell's cries. The darkness stopped nearby so that Grell could at least see what was coming at him. He watched the metal pole be raised a little ways away to the side before it came flying at Grell's side.

A deafening blow to the ribs caused him to yelp out. Something sickeningly snapped. Another slam came.

Grell's screams continued to grow louder, more desperate until his voice cracked, unable to cry out. He could feel warm blood running down his side and soaking through what was left of his dress. With his skirts clinging to his legs, he tried to unconsciously straighten it out but then he touched the warm liquid. Suddenly Eric decided to jab Grell in the jaw with the bar, busting his lip and breaking something else, perhaps a jaw? The next thing Grell knew, blood was profusely pouring from his mouth.

He squealed from the pain, the fear, the helplessness. Everything that had brought him to this.

_Why? Why isn't William here for me? Why had he lied?_

The redhead squeezed his eyes shut tight, silent cries ripping from his lips as he took blow after blow from the pipe.

His ribs were broken, he could tell just by the now hollow sound. Eric swapped hands and began to abuse the other side. His eyes were still open as he was forced to face him, he could only whimper by this point. His hand reached up to Eric's wrist to touch him in a feeble attempt to protest against the pain.

His hand stained the cuff of Eric's wrist. It angered the demon and his assault became more vicious. He growled,"Filth!" and went on.

Something else snapped somewhere but his mind failed to register it. His eyes seemingly closed, just briefly, before looking back up at Eric. His breathing hitched when he saw William just over Eric's shoulder. He gathered the strength to utter out,"Will..."

It was enough to cause Eric to pause in mid-swing. "What?" He asked, confused. He saw William bring a hand to Eric's shoulder, the demon whirled around at the gentle contact and, immediately, ran off into the darkness; the pipe was taken with, an indication that his death scythe was never on his person. One can barely imagine the damage Eric could cause with such a weapon, if he had it.

Grell, now released, fell to his side. He moaned out in pain as blood began to seep from his mouth; he was bleeding internally somewhere within his body, if he stayed in that position he could drown in his own blood. His mouth dripped more blood, more to wash the floor. He felt sick to the stomach, there was too much of it for even him to handle.

Like a child, he whimpered once more and his hand shakily reached out towards William. The shadows obscured his figure, causing him to fade in and out of his sight; he saw the man get on one knee by him and take his hand.

"...Eric...left," he coughed out.

William shushed him as the shadows began to engulf him. "You did well, Grell..."

"Lied...you lied. Lie-"

"No, I was right here." William sat down beside him and gathered him into his lap, he picked him up as though he were a child and began to rock back and forth, gently. The darkness, it was everywhere. Grell could barely tell what reality was as his consciousness slipping away. "I'll always be here with you..."

_Why is he speaking...as if everything will be alright? Why is he so calm...even if he is dead. Is he? But...he let him hurt me._

"You let him hurt me...you weren't here..." He choked out weakly.

William shook his head. "I was here, I needed him to be distracted, I told you, I don't have much time here-"

"Don't...leave me again..." His voice was fading, just like his strength.

"It's hard to stay in the same plane of existence as you. But no matter, I'll take care of this for you."

More blood sputtered over his lips and ran down his chin, "...am I going to die?" he reached a shaky hand up to cup William's cheek.

"You will not die, I promise you that," William reassuringly told him. His free hand went to Grell's eyes. "Just close your eyes...when you open them again, the nightmare will be over..."

"W-what about Eric?" His hand went up to stop William's. He knew that if he so much as blinked, the man before him would disappear. "What're you going to do?" William brought him close so that he would be able to hear his whispers. "William...is he going to...are you going to..."

"Just go to sleep, Grell," he coaxed him. Without saying another world, he began to hum a lullaby. It was eerie and yet soothing, comforting even. When he began to rock back and forth in a swaying motion, Grell was beginning to lose sight of him as the world slowly became black. The sound of his voice, his humming, was all he could hear; it began to grow louder as his eyes drifted closed.

As soon as he had done so, the warmth of William's touch ebbed away and sleep took a hold of himself. He was alone again, battered and defenseless, but the humming was still there, beckoning him to relax. He dared to open his eyes but he simply couldn't bring himself to do so. His body was gently placed to the floor and he was sprawled out upon it. The darkness enveloped him, his mind had been brought passed exhaustion; slowly he lost consciousness and fell into the arms of slumber.

The lullaby was still being hummed. When he had grown accustomed to the song, he began to hum along with it, not knowing he was doing so in his sleep.

**Just remember I will always be with you in your shadow. I have never left you. I never done so. I never will.  
**

_**I was so blind to you.** _

**Do you know this song? Grell, this was a song you loved so much...**

_**We made love to it before. Yes, I remember...ah! William, what happened to you?** _

**...Grell...I'm lost...**

* * *

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Ronald sighed, rubbing his temples as he walked between the cubicles of the office. He had drank way too much the night before, and now he was paying for it with the bright lights and loud voices. He dropped his folders onto his desk and looked over at the crowd gathering near the door of the lounge. Couldn't they be quieter? He couldn't be the only one with a hangover.

Curious as to why so many reapers would gather there so early in the morning, he walked out of his work space and started to push through the crowd. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a reaper on the floor, disemboweled and mutilated. A few Higher ranged reapers knelt beside the body.

Feeling like he'd be sick, the young blond turned away from the scene and pushed his way back out of the crowd. He gasped, bending over to take a few deep breaths to calm his stomach, his eyes cast down at the white tiles of the floor.

No...there was still red. Ronald blinked a few times. The red didn't disappear. Footprints? Bloody ones, looking like they had been made by bare feet. But they were so spread out and smeared, making it appear that whoever had left them was running, possibly even panicked. He didn't know why, but he slowly followed the trail, the blood leading him to the Stairwell and up two fights. The railing had been mangled and ripped. He wasn't liking this. But he pressed onwards, following it up to a sunlit floor. A broken vase of lilies on the floor. He tensed, ready to summon his scythe at the first sign of trouble.

And then, more red caught his eye. A lot more red. Surrounding another body in trails of blood...no, not blood...hair.

"Grell-senpai!" Ronald hurried over to the red reaper, trembling in fear as he pulled his senior into his arms, growing alarmed at how bloody and broken the reaper was. Just...what had happened last night in the dispatch building?

Grell could only respond with a small hum, which made Ronald want to drop him but his grip tightened as he examined him further. His dress was torn to shreds, he was shoeless, and he was drenched in blood. There was so much of it, some was seeping from his mouth and ribs; drying blood caked in his hair.

It was like Grell rolled around in the innards of the Shinigami in the staff lounge. He saw that there was a flashlight nearby, along with a black journal; was Grell carrying this around his person? Or did his assailant leave this with him?

He pressed his ear against Grell's chest. A few seconds passed. Nothing. "Oh, Grell," he murmured, he waited for a breathtaking moment.

**...ba-dump...**

He sighed in relief. This was a bloody mess, he was sure that the pool of blood he was sitting in had now bled into his slacks, but he cared less. Just as he had gathered Grell in his arms to carry him, he heard the thunder of someone running up the flight of stairs.

The door swung open, it was Rivers. The man rushed in and made eye contact with Ronald, then his mouth fell open at the sight. "What the...what the fuck? What the fuck happened here!? Is-is...is that Grell?" He pointed at the redhead. "Oh Jesus...Jesus Christ..." He shouted over his shoulder down the stairwell. "GET THE MEDIC!"

Rivers rushed over to Ronald and began to check over Grell's vitals himself. "Knox, what happened to him? Is he alive? Is he breathing?"

"I...I don't know. I found him like this...But he's alive, but barely. His heart-beat...it's slow...weak." he looked around the gory mess, "What happened here? That man in the lobby, Grell?"

Rivers touched Grell's neck, searching for a pulse. "He's unconscious, give him here."

Ronald reluctantly allowed Rivers to take a hold of Grell's limp body. Simultaneously, a group of Shinigami, clad in white robes, were pouring out from the door with a cloth stretcher. Rivers clamored over to them as they took the man under their care. With the ruckus made by the medical team over within a minute, they quickly left as soon as they came in; a few seconds passed before workers from the stairwell caught sight of Grell in the stretcher.

It was quiet between them, Rivers had decided to stay back with Ronald. He went to Ronald and knelt over, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "I'm just as confused as you are...but the man they found in the lounge is William...the bag managed to slip off when they were cleaning him up and the entire office went into a riot. Several of the Authorities got in and are ushering people out."

He took a gander at his surroundings.

"...get that flashlight and book there, Grell might have been carrying it. When he comes to, it might help him recall what happened here last night." He got up and began to walk away. "I need to help the others...and then get home to my family. I was thinking of quitting a few days before..." He trailed off of his words, leaving Ronald to himself.

Ronald felt as if he was in shock. William was dead? Grell had been assaulted? First Alan and Eric were killed, and now William and possibly Grell, and all for what? He felt so...alone. His friends were all being taken from him.

Reaching out, he grabbed the items Grell had been carrying with him, and stood up. Grell couldn't die. The medical staff had to save him. He had to be okay.

-A Few Weeks Later-

The poor Shinigami had just gotten out of surgery. After numerous operations to mend his ribs back together, and being treated for a sprained ankle, the doctors had notified the nearest person to Grell, which was Ronald, to tell him that he would be able to take in visitors.

It was after hours. Ronald had just gotten out of work. The office had been cleaned of the blood, the body disposed of, and the funeral had been over with only a few days before. He stood at the door with the book and flashlight in tow, along with a bouquet of roses. He opened it to find Grell in bed, laying upon it with a tube coming down from his arm. His glasses were resting on the bedside table, along with a vase.

"Hey," he called softly to him. He couldn't exactly tell if Grell was asleep or awake, but a small groan greeted him. He felt that he could step in. "It's me, Ronald..."

Grell's head slowly turned, his unfocused gaze drifting to Ronald. His eyes widened. He could see two-toned hair. Dark and blond...Eric?

"No! Stay away!" he screeched, moving to scramble back, only to have pain shoot through his bandaged ribs, drawing a gasp of pain from him.

Ronald, startled by Grell's rouse, dropped the flowers, flashlight, and book. He shakily cried out, "It's me, Ronald!" He rushed over to his side and fell to his knees by the bedside. His hand took Grell's and held it tightly. "Calm down, you're not in that-"

"WILLIAM!" He started screaming hysterically. "WILLIAM!"

"Grell!" Ronald shouted back at him, getting up to face him this time. He loomed over him before leaning in, his arms supported himself over Grell while one of his arms were crooked back so that his hand can stroke Grell's temple. His voice softened. "You need to calm down..."

He was hoping he could reach into Grell's mind and somehow mollify him so that he would be at a much more comprehensive state. The doctors had notified Ronald of Grell's status, how every time he would see anyone he would be thrown into hysteria; they were hoping Ronald could help as their therapist seemed unable to reach Grell at all. Ronald continued to quietly speak, his voice evening out. "Listen to my voice. Let it flow though you."

The redhead screamed it in his face. "WILLIAM!"

"Just think about who I am."

"WILLIAM!"

"You're safe now."

Despite all the stresses he had faced, he needed to see a familiar face; he needed to speak to someone he knew.

"GET AWAY! WILLIAM! WILLIAM COME BACK!" Grell continued to scream, "PLEASE! E-ERIC D-DON'T DO THIS! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

"Grell! Please...you're safe. It's okay..." Ronald continued to stroke his long ruby locks, "Its Ronald." Inwardly, he frowned. Why was Grell yelling about Eric? Eric was dead...had been dead. There was no way he could be involved. Was Grell so traumatized that he was seeing things? Seeing ghosts of the past? "Grell...its okay..." he continued to repeat, trying to calm the screaming reaper.

Grell clung to the sheets, his legs began to kick away but his eyes eventually fell upon Ronald's. His mouth still moved but eventually, the screaming ceased. His eyes were wide with fright and he was frantically learning how to breathe again. "R-Ronald," he murmured.

"Yes, Ronald," the younger Shinigami replied. Grell stared at him to make sure it was the familiar friend he knew. His arms slowly went up and then went to curve around his back to embrace him.

"Oh...it's you...just Ronald."

"Just me," he repeated back at him. He hugged him as well, or tried to, he avoided the ribs and awkwardly returned the gesture. Grell's hands felt around his back, and then one went to his face to see if it were truly him.

"Thank God, only you," he breathed as Ronald went off the side of the bed and slowly slipped away temporarily to grab a seat. He went towards the door to take a hold of the roses and the various items he dropped by accident. Once gathered, he sat by the bedside and presented the bouquet first. "Yeah, who else would it be?" He grinned. The back of his mind was alarmed at the mention of Eric. He grew worried for Grell, naturally, but he would have to give him a moment to collect himself. After all, the man went from screaming is head off to a quiet demeanor. "Got these for you."

"I'm...safe?" he croaked out, "Ron...Ronnie, Don't disappear! Don't leave me like Will...k-keep me safe!" he gripped the blond's arm tight, his grip quivering as he silently pleaded.

Ronald looked at him, "Senpai...do you remember what happened?" he cupped his cheeks, "Please...help me understand so I can help you. You are safe. You aren't alone."

"I...I...Eric...William...the blood...too much...all that red...too much...I can't..."

"I'm not going anywhere, alright?" He said reassuringly. He stayed for a few moments, reading the fear in Grell's eyes. Terror was an emotion he never saw in Grell, the last person he would think to show signs of stress at its highest level. Eventually, Grell relaxed, his grip easing off of him but his hand went to reach his.

"Don't leave..."

"Then just breathe," Ronald said, leaning back into the chair. He placed the flowers on the table but still held his hand. The flashlight and journal were placed next to the flowers. "You don't have to tell me anything if you can't. And I'd rather wait until you're comfortable."

Grell choked back a sob, tears filling his eyes, "Ron...Ron, he's gone...gone...He's gone...but not gone...they don't stay gone... Ron! Ronald! He could come back! They all could!"

"Shh, Senpai, it's okay. You don't have to tell me...not yet." he rubbed the tears off his cheek, "Don't push yourself. Just relax."

Grell took a fistful of his blanket and wiped his eyes. He could only see a blur of Ronald but his voice was enough to prove it was him. His ribs stung terribly, he winced when he tried to move, so he stayed on his back, breathing deeply while fighting it. He wept for a bit more, then he brought himself calm down. "I...they'll come back for me, I'm sure. Eric and William, both will...come back."

"Wait, William? He's...dead, Grell, he died weeks ago," Ronald murmured the last part quietly while looking away. "But-"

He was cut off when Grell began to hum. He brought himself to look at his friend; he saw that his eyes were closed. He was humming a soft tune, Ronald grew worried and held his hand tighter; the song stopped and the redhead was suddenly asleep.

"...What happened to you, Grell?" He asked, alas, Grell refused to awaken. He released his hand and then looked at the black, leather bound book that was sitting on the nightstand. It was found not so far away from Grell when he got a hold of him on the seventh floor. It was stowed away in Ronald's desk for safekeeping until he would be able to give it to Grell, just as Rivers advised. He never opened it but had grown curious to what it contained.

He reached back to take a hold of the book, he opened to the first page.

William T. Spears

He wanted to place the book down but he was compelled to turn the next. And he did. Finding the date to be marked the fifteenth of March, 1889; over five months ago. His hand touched the deep penmanship of William, he tended to press the paper with the pen a tad bit too hard. Perhaps it was stress related. Ronald scanned over it.

It was a simple list. The man had written about supplies needed, this may have been William's pocketbook or so about reminders of what to do. There was nothing odd about until he reached the bottom of the page.

 **...**  
**13\. Flashlight**  
**14\. Wax**  
**15\. Scarlet**

Scarlet was illegal. It was a strange thing to see that on William's list. There was little purpose to use it besides recreational use; even hospitals had stopped using it after learning its side-effects. It was banned to a point of where Ronald knew none of how to obtain it, for some reason, William had a connection to someone with it.

But who?

Shaking his head he turned the page, scanning over each page. Every so often something stood out or confused him. Mentions of warnings that were written off as a hoax or nothing important, Grell's name written in red in random spots, and eventually, the words 'Eric Slingby' were stiffly written along the bottom of a single page, nothing else upon it.

Why would William waist an entire page on the name of a coworker who had been long dead? The blond sighed and flipped the page again, his eyes widening. The handwriting had changed. Words like Grell, revenge, the last soul, death, hell, and demons were messily overlapping each other at odd angles, all in red, but one more word stood out among the rest in a dark black. **'Madness'.**

The handwriting looked familiar; one that he hadn't seen for a very long time…the handwriting of Eric Slingby himself. Ronald's hands shook and he dropped the book onto the edge of Grell's bed, looking at the redhead laying there, his hair spread over the white pillow like rivers of blood. It made sense…Grell's panicked words, what was found with Grell, what was in the book…William's body…they were all connected, and Eric Slingby seemed to be the thing connecting them.

But Eric was dead…or was he? 'Demon', 'Hell'…what if Eric had come back? What if he had been reborn in the pits of Hell as a demon? What if he was after Grell and Killed William in order to get to the redhead? Ronald wasn't going to stand it. He wasn't going to see Grell taken from him.

Standing up, the younger reaper leaned over Grell's form, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "You're safe now, Senpai…I'll make sure you stay safe." He whispered before turning to leave. He had things to do.

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

The hospital Grell was being nursed in was far from the residential district. It was a large manor converted into a medical facility, an old building with new technology. Surrounding it were the grounds where several Shinigami, whether they be part of the medical staff or apprentices, were resting and enjoying the autumnal season. The green lawn was as grand as the building, spanning for a few hundred yards before ending at a street. Ronald bundled himself up in his scarf as he gave a glance back to see the hospital for a brief moment.

Clouds loomed over it, giving it a gloomy setting. He grimaced and quickly ran across the street, barely missing an automobile. He hopped onto the sidewalk and went down the street from there, going west.

A breeze picked up but he ignored it.

A group of children ran by.

A couple were sitting at a bench near the park.

A man bumped his shoulder and offered no apology.

It was as though the deaths of his friends was a distant thing and that life did not stop to mourn or even pay respects. His eyes were cast down to the ground where the red and yellow leaves were scattered before him. He stepped over some, crushing them without care. He felt alone in this world, but he will not stay this way if there were answers to all this. The Authorities would do nothing more than to take care of Williams body and the Ministry would care less for what happened that night; there was not enough evidence to open this into a full investigation in Grell's defense, but there was enough to accuse him.

With Grell's record, the poor man may be charged for murdering William; he feared that would be the case once Grell was released from the hospital. But for now, Ronald was the only one questioning everything. Eric. If he said Eric returned, no one would believe him; he found it hard to believe this himself.

He clenched the copper key in his pocket and pressed on.

The journey brought him to the steps of William's manor. It was situated quite far from most residents, both physically and spiritually; it felt unwelcoming and cold, just like its previous owner. The home was modeled after the Victorian style in the Human Realm and was recently built; William had only purchased the property a few months ago. Before, he lived with Grell until the man turned into Jack the Ripper, prompting him to move elsewhere. Ronald looked up and around the area, making sure that no one would see him enter. He would rather search the place undisturbed.

As William failed to have any direct family or anyone in particular, just as Grell had little to no visitors, Ronald was given everything as entrusted by the Ministry to be one of William's closest friends. It was typical for personal belongings to be handed down to the nearest person, or coworker, should an inevitable fate were to occur within the Dispatch Society. Ronald had little to no idea what he would do with William's property as he was given Eric and Alan's apartment in the more populated area; he kept that place clean out of respect, what ever could he do with a manor?

He unlocked the door and entered, his hand reached for a light switch and immediately flipped it. He found the place in disarray, as if William had gone as mad as the journal's writing said he did. The entrance had paintings that were torn off the walls, the furniture was upturned, and there were numerous papers scattered about the floor. He saw the chandelier above his head to be barely hanging from the ceiling, it threatened to fall any moment.

A lamp nearby had fallen and its glass cover and bulb shattered, leaving shards across the entrance. Ronald gently kicked away the lamp by the bar and observed his surroundings for a bit longer. There were no marks of a demon but there was definitely signs of some sort of struggle. His eyes drifted to the stairs; its banister was smashed through halfway up the steps. He was surprised there was no bloodshed anywhere.

_Something terrible must have happened._

His hand went to his belt to rest on the switchblade he often carried on his person, he didn't take it out but he had his hand there, just in case. He ventured into the living room; it was in disarray as well with books scattered all over the place. He glanced at the coffee table and saw a myriad of pill dispensers. He approached them and picked up one, some still had the red tablets still inside, others were opened with missing caps.

"Scarlet," he murmured. He could hardly imagine what the Authorities would do if they decided to have a look in the manor. He tossed the dispenser into the pile. It clattered as he went into another room that lacked a door.

His hand touched the wall, running onto the wallpaper gingerly, until he found a switch. He flipped it and the lights flickered on and off before deciding to stay on. He was stunned and bewildered that this room was left untouched by the chaos and darkness of the manor.

It was one of pure white, like it was a room in another space and time, isolated from any world. He cautiously stepped in despite the only object of interest was a stool with a corded phone that had its wire stretching to the plug in the wall. The light shining above him made the room appear brighter. He felt being watched now, he turned his head towards the threshold but saw no one.

His Oxfords tapped against the white, wooden floor. He saw nothing of interest or worth, he was about to turn until a starling sound came from the telephone.

**Riiiiiiiing!**

He swore his heart nearly stopped at the sudden noise. It persisted for a few seconds; it paused; it rang. Pause. **Ring**. Pause. **Ring**.

Ronald nervously approached the phone, looking down at it. his hand hovering over it, fingers twitching before he plucked it from its cradle. Slowly bringing it up to his ear. He hesitated, licking his lips before speaking, "Hello?"

A soft voice came from the silence. "Grell...Grell, this is Grell, right? I can't believe you're alive, you're out of there!?" The person on the other end was relieved. "Oh my God, you're _alive_!"

Ronald frowned further. The voice...it was impossibly familiar... "This isn't Grell...he's healing. Who...who is this? Do you know what happened to him? What happened that night?"

The voice hesitated, but suddenly picked up speed as the person spoke in earnest. "It's Alan, Alan Humphries. Listen, I don't know who you are, but you need to do something very important. I don't have that much time to explain everything. You need to get Grell out of your world, you need to bring him to Sebastian Michaelis, the demon that holds a contract Ciel Phantomhive."

"A-Alan?" Ronald's eyes widened, it was impossible! And yet...Alan wouldn't be the first dead man to be thought involved in all this. _Eric..._ The blond shook the thoughts from his head, "Alan! It's me, Ronald. Is Eric back too? Why do I have to get Grell out to that demon? Please. I need to know."

Alan sounded hesitant but he spoke quickly.

"Eric is back. The bonfires of Guy Fawkes Night opened a slight hole between various words, even Heaven and the Earth. Hell, Purgatory, even our home, all of them with men and women who had good intentions were allowed to leave...it's a complicated matter, with so much energy created by everyone, surely some of the dead were allowed to rise, even briefly. I, myself, was able to see Eric...the demon told me of his plans that night, and before I could convince him otherwise, my card expired and I was sent back to Heaven. Ooooh no..."

He sounded frustrated at his own bantering.

"Argh! Forget about that detail! You need to bring Grell to Michaelis because the only way to counter Eric is with another demon, you saw the damage he done; you and Grell wouldn't stand a chance against him! He's not one of us, he's just a beast. Personally...I don't now what good Michaelis would do, but that's what I feel is best for everyone. Surely a lesser demon would be no match to an older one, right? Unless you have another plan, I suggest you go to him."

Ronald felt lost. He barely understood what Alan was spewing out. This was a complex matter. He remembered fighting Sebastian and being beaten within an inch of his life during that unfortunate voyage. He was well aware of the demon's strength but he knew little as to how they can maintain or harness their powers. He had a good idea what Shinigami are capable of, but in his young years, demons are an entirely new subject to him.

He only knew how to fight them. The news of Eric returning disturbed him, Eric was a very powerful man himself; he could bend bars with a single hand and perform physical feats that made him renown for his prowess. And his valor in fights, well, Ronald knew better than to cross him whether he be drunk or sober. He feared the immense strength Eric would have as a beast - a demon.

"Why? Why's Eric after Grell? I'll help him, of course, but...I don't understand!"

"I don't know, he never told me...neither did Grell, I just know Eric is out to kill him. Look, I need to go. I'm sorry, but just trust me on this!" Alan pleaded.

"A-all right." Ronald nodded despite wanting answers f Eric's return. Gripping the phone, he timidly inquired, "Alan...is...is William alright? I mean... like you? Is he in Heaven?"

"I...can't say. If he were, he'd be speaking, not me," he somberly replied. "Well...I'll try to reach you later on. Good-bye, Ronald...and good luck."

There was a moment of silence he stared into space, trying to comprehend what Alan told him. It shocked him that a dead man was speaking.

"Oh, and tell Grell I'm sorry...he'll understand."

The line suddenly went dead.

Ronald stood for a moment before setting the phone down again.

Turning on his heel to rush out, he decided to follow Alan's advice. He couldn't take Grell to the demon right away, he couldn't trust, especially not after the fight from all those months ago...there had to be another way. He thrust open the front door, only to be greeted by the pouring rain from the outside. Making up his mind, he headed strait to the Phantomhive estate alone.

-Phantomhive Estate-

Ronald stumbled into the human realm, still fresh in the transition between worlds. He caught himself against the masonry of the manor; he was thankful that he managed to bring himself near the doorsteps. The last time he tried to take himself into the human realm, he ended up in a brothel instead of the listed soul's home.

It was bright, much more contradicting than that of the darkened and damp Shinigami Realm. He squinted away the sunlight and went to the front door. A stroke of luck to him was that a servant left it open, he was about to go through but he stopped when a blond teenager rushed out, whistling a jolly tune with a ladder effortlessly balanced on a single shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow at him but when the boy had passed, he sneaked inside to find a familiar redheaded woman; he remembered flirting with her before he departed for the Campania several months back. She looked up at him from the banister she was polishing, with shoe polish by the way, and she stared at him from behind those large lenses of her spectacles.

"...who might you be?" She asked curiously.

Ronald turned on the charm, grinning at her, "Aw, don't tel me you have already forgotten me, my lovely young lady." He took her hand and gingerly kissed the top of it, avoiding the shoe polish smudged on part of her hand. "Ronald Knox. I was hoping to speak with Sebastian Michaelis about an important matter?"

A blush streaked across her face rather furiously, she even dropped the cloth as her eyes grew wide. The charm of the young man made her nod immediately as her thoughts raced back to the docks of London. "Oh, yes, yes, I remember. That dreadful ship that sank, it's quite the miracle you're alive. Um...our butler, Sebastian, he's busy, but...I'll lead you to him. C-come."

She scampered up the stairs as she tried to hike her dress up to not step on it. She looked over her shoulder nervously as she lead him down one long hallway. She asked,"Are...are you a friend of his?"

"Oh, we met on the ship. Spent some time together during the chaos of the ship sinking." He shrugged as he followed closely behind her. "I hadn't known he works alongside you. He's a lucky man." He winked flirtatiously.

She tried to struggle down a squeal, and she managed to keep it under her throat. Her hand edgily went to the door nob when they reached the room the demon was supposedly busy in. She turned it and opened the door, letting Ronald in first while saying,"Sebastian, a man is here to see you. He says it's important...and that you met on the Campania. "

Ronald smiled at her but it vanished when his eyes met the butler's. Sebastian merely greeted him with a warmer smile and told Maylene,"Thank you, please leave us in private."

"Y-yes!" She backed away and closed the door. Ronald's hand went to his side, his fingers twitching at the need to bring his knife out for defense, but he calmly presented himself as best as he could to look less of a threat. When the door closed itself, he stood in silence.

"I hope you came all way this for than an opportunity to just stand there and gawk at me," Sebastian briskly told him. He had a feather duster at hand, he had the gall to mockingly point it at him before turning back towards the shelves. "Certainly your presence here must be more important than your job elsewhere."

"It's my day off." The blond said simply, "But we...have a problem, one that I hear that you can help with... You may be his only hope..." He grit his teeth, hating to admit it. If Eric was a demon out to kill Grell, then there was nothing he could do to save him; even William had failed and met an unsightly death. He had no chance, just as Alan said! He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing up over the handle of his knife.

He closed his eyes, trying to find the right words.

He started off slowly,"We have a slight...demon problem. There is a demon trying to kill Grell. William's already sacrificed himself for Grell, but the demon's still out there, so the extent of his efforts are in vain if Grell dies. Please...please help me protect him!"

"...perhaps not, I have little time for your problems," Sebastian told him as though it were as simple as that, quickly striding over to him and only stopping when he was at his side with a hand at the door. "If it's only a slight issue, surely your...kind can take care of it within a single day. It's not uncommon for demons to come after Shinigami, in fact, it happens all the time. I'm nothing but a servant, a demon, I offer hope to no one, not even to my master. Whatever Grell did to be the subject of target is not of my concern, I do say he may as well deserved it."

The butler looked thoughtful for a moment. "Spears dead and Grell in danger, and you are just a weak one." He smirked. "I find it beneficial since there are less Shinigami to deal with."

Ronald scowled, pulling out his knife, but not rising it, yet. "He's all I have left! Eric, Alan, William... they are all gone! And now Eric is trying to take Grell, he's barely holding on to his soul by a thread! I can't do this alone...please! I'll do anything to save him! You're a powerful demon. I know you are. You can help! If you can put up against Undertaker and give me a trashing, surely Eric would be a breeze for you!"

That pair of amber eyes darted for the knife. He glared at it and opened the door. "Flattering as it may be, not every day you hear a Shinigami tell a demon of his prowess. Even Shinigami can become as desperate as humans...hnm, I suppose I may be willing to help. Put that knife down, I don't want the servants to get the wrong idea from you."

He walked on, gesturing the young man to follow. "Come, you can explain while following; I have a tight schedule. Eric...Eric Slingby and his friend Alan Humphries, those two are quite memorable the pair. As I can recall, I killed the man...but he's alive?"

"He's a demon, I think. I still don't know everything, this is all unknown to me really," he said, slipping the knife away again, "but he attacked Grell on Guy Fawkes Night...and killed William, butchered him and strung him up, gutted and..." He shuddered. "Grell...he's not...mentally capable of pursuing anything at the moment, can't even recognize me. Well, he did but that's when he started screaming at Eric..." He shook his head, not wanting to think of it, "I want him to stay safe. To get better."

Sebastian nodded in understanding. "I see your motivation for helping him. Wise choice for Eric to emerge on Guy Fawkes Night...hm, a night where demons, the departed, and the living can roam freely with one another. Eric would be able to gain free passage into this world...had there been any instances where the man shown himself before that night? A bit strange for a demon, particularly green, lesser one to walk amongst anyone this world, or yours, especially yours," he mused as they entered the drawing room.

The sun bathed the entire room with light, a comforting sight for Ronald considering his world was darkened at the moment. Sebastian went to the back and straightened out several ornaments that managed to hang unevenly on the wall.

"I can't be sure. But I think William had at least been in contact with him, if I read this correctly," he said, pulling out William's journal. "I haven't seen him at all myself, but I somehow spoke with Alan on the phone in William's manor today…he was the one to send me to you for help."

Sebastian pulled away from his work to review the journal. "A call from Heaven and a word from Hell," he murmured as he reviewed the writings. "From what I can gather...Grell is under a grudge from Eric; the man clearly wants revenge and may possibly have toyed with William up until his death. Besides Guy Fawkes Night and an angel placing us into your realm, it is entirely impossible for demons to enter unless there is someone to...open the door, so to say."

When the writing changed into a different penmanship, Sebastian's gloved finger ran over it. "Choosing William as the one to let him in is rather odd. But to do so as a newly born demon...it's a feat worth praising him in my book. If I may recall, the only true way for a Shinigami to become a demon is by consuming a soul before death. Eric must have taken at least one by accident, I see how he would be denied passage to Heaven hence leaving him to rot away in Hell; he murdered more than Grell, no mistake in that if he were to be rewired to have desires and instincts of a demon, backed up with a personal hatred...

"In order for him to gain enough power to enter your world and do...this." He showed the book at Ronald for a moment and then looked back at its pages once more.

"...he must have consumed a vast number of the damned souls of humans in Hell (yes, I mean that even souls you Shinigami have reaped are given to us after judgement in death, your efforts are useless in the end with so much sin going around); those particular souls are the untouchable ones and less desirable by demons such as myself. It is a common practice conducted by all fledgelings to gain some foothold in having any sort of power. However, there is a limit as to how many of the damned one may have in order to enter the Human Realm at all."

He placed a free hand hand under his chin and looked thoughtfully at the book.

"Imagine the damage he could do with nine hundred and ninety-nine souls...hm, sounds familiar to his original mission in life."

"...The rumored cure? But that was one thousand souls and..." Ronald trailed off. Eric held a grudge against Grell, wanted revenge...and if there seemed a common number of souls involved... his eyes widened, "Could he want that last soul? Would he want it to be Grell's?" It made sense in a way, though he still didn't know everything. "He wants Grell's soul...but the criteria would be he would need to obtain a thousand souls; recollecting any in Hell, those are impure, corrupted. Right?"

"His last thoughts in life may be the influence as to what he is doing now; purity is no longer an objective for him...Grell is his priority. Grell must have done something. Yes, souls in Hell are no longer innocent, another reason he would target Grell, yes? I personally say that Grell does strike us all as a sinner. Mischievous, devious, sadistic, destructive...had you heard the story of Sodom and Gomorrah-?"

"Shut up about that!" Ronald glared dangerously but softened it when he was given the journal. "Not everyone is perfect, who are you to judge? You're just a demon..."

Sebastian gave a soft chuckle. "I'm just offering my best opinion. The man is not innocent of any sin, so I come to the conclusion that Eric is just, as you figured, out for a personal goal. This does interest me and yet I'm not surprised Grell has a part in this."

"Well, would you like to take part in this? Unless you want to strike a deal..." Ronald couldn't believe that he would lower his head for the butler. "Anything you desire in exchange for your services getting rid of Eric."

Sebastian shook his head,"A grudge is a curse, and a curse cannot be removed. Demons cannot be stopped until they achieved their purpose. Only then will their human desires abate and they would gain the instincts of a demon to, in my terms, function properly. Sadly, this is impossible to fix, but do not be dismayed. I have a solution.

"I give you the task to fetch Grell and bring him here. If he is under a grudge and Eric is in a blind rage of his own, we may be able to finish what William tried to end...or not, depending on whose soul Eric obtains. Perhaps giving him a soul that is not Grell's may suffice for him if he only cares of completing his revenge, somehow."

"Another soul..." He fell silent. Giving a demon a soul...it was wrong. It was against everything reapers stood for...he couldn't sacrifice-or could he? Hadn't he said he'd do anything for Grell to save him?

"...What...about mine?" he whispered, "Mine is the soul of a god, a god of death... it'd be more like Grell's than a human's would...and if it'd save Grell..."

Despite hearing Ronald, his lips curled just slightly at the corner of his mouth. "Come again?"

"Would...would he take my soul instead of Grell's?" He asked, voice trembling. It was the largest sacrifice he was offering.

"If we can successfully deceive him, of course. Why not?" Sebastian replied cynically. He placed a hand on Ronald's shoulder. "I only say it's impossible to remove this particular curse because it demands a life in exchange, regardless. Should you walk this path, you have an accursed fate." He rubbed that spot reassuringly before going to the windows to cover it with the curtains, darkening the room. "Consider this an act of charity despite my lacking of a heart."

Ronald clutched the book in his hand. The man was mocking him. "I am grateful for this..."

With one window covered, the room lost much light. Ronald was in front of the uncovered window, bathing in the sun's rays as Sebastian situated himself in the shadows. "You ought to be. Denying services to you may prompt a kidnapping of my Young Master. Not surprising at all as I treasure him more than anything, though it will be headache to wrestle him from you as I would have my schedule thrown back quite far."

_A cynical dog he is._

"Now, pardon me while I continue working. It's best to not let the Young Master know of this, should you encounter him in this home. Bring Grell here as soon as you can. I can offer my services by midnight, no later than that. Understood?"

Ronald nodded, softly saying, "...Thank you..." as the journal was sent away.

-Hospital-

Ronald was so very close to the door, but he heard a pair of voices speaking firmly and then another speaking frantically.

"Grell Sutcliff, your trial will be held a week from today."

"B-but...I...I _swear_ -"

"That is all."

Ronald stopped and allowed two reapers, surely they were the Authorities as they wore robes rather than suits, billow by without pausing to give a glance.

"You...you can't do this to me!" Grell shouted from his room at their retreating forms.

Ronald slid into the room, "Grell? What's going on?"

Grell was a mess. He was barely sitting up, his breathing was labored and his eyes were red from tears streaming down his face. "Ronald..."

Ronald sighed in relief that the man was able to recognize him.

His hand flew to the desk and snatched up his glasses, he shoved them on his face after managing to get the chain under his hair. Immediately, fighting the pain and gritting his teeth, he attempted to get up, but he only succeeded in falling back into the pillows. He groaned as he snapped in rage,"They want to charge me for William's death. There's no proof of that! None of it! That's insane...charging me and not even asking my side of the story! I need to get out of here, they'll probably execute me for a crime I didn't even commit-"

"They won't!" Ronald said, making his way to the redhead's side and taking his hand, "Because you aren't staying. It's not safe for you here anyway, not with Eric around. Come on." He slipped his arms around the older reaper, helping him up.

"You're...ugh...not suggesting to run away...are you?" He huffed out when he struggled on his feet. It's been weeks and the use of his legs felt foreign to him. He wore a white nightgown, he felt exposed as he was injured. His jaw clenched as he clung to him.

"No! Well, yes... but... look. I know what happened...or some of it. I know Eric's after you. You aren't safe here. You wont be safe if they lock you away-"

Grell rose up at the mention of Eric.

"So you _do_ believe me! I swear, I'm not insane myself!" He laughed under his breath. "I tried to tell them what I saw, who tried to kill me...who killed William, but they can't listen, they won't. I did nothing wrong! If it's anyone to pay for ruining my life, it's Eric...I feel bolder that I hadn't seen him, but I'm scared he's just waiting for night to fall."

"You did nothing wrong, Grell. And I'll prove it once we take care of Eric. C'mon, I have a place that's safe to take you."

"Safe?" His bloodshot eyes suddenly lit up with hope as he tore away the needles connecting him to the fluid bag hanging nearby. "Where? Is it far? Take me there, quickly! I grow...weary..."

His swing from panic to rage and to sudden excitement had taken a heavy toll on him. He exerted too much energy and he succumbed to a deep sleep. Ronald wondered how the man could be overwhelmed with such emotions when only, just this morning, he was as easily frightened as a deer. Grell drooped into his hold, Ronald was more than willing to carry him.

He looked over at the desk and saw a bottle of pills. He supported Grell with one hand and reached to the pills with the other. He picked it up and saw, much to his shock, that they were the infamous Scarlet. They repressed memories and trauma more than the pain. Grell was under its effects. They must have forced fed him the medication so that he would be rendered calm enough to speak to the Authorities.

Ronald shot the bottle at the wall, causing it to shatter with the dozens of red tablets bouncing off in many directions. He glowered at the Authorities harsh treatment. When they wanted to blame someone, they would do anything. Maybe they are aware of a demon's return but want to keep the fact hidden. Maybe Grell has quickly become a scapegoat. He denied the possibility Grell killed William, he knew a majority of the truth; he had physical proof of the journal.

Whatever the reason, a force much more dangerous than their Society was going to kill Grell, regardless of whether he was guilty or innocent for his crimes. Ronald hefted Grell into both arms and rushed out of the room, his mind set on saving Grell.

He knew, deep within his heart, that he signed himself into an inevitable fate. As he turned a corner, he commended William for giving Grell a chance to live and be found alive. Ronald could only hope that Grell would understand why he was doing this. After all, the boy was in love.

* * *

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

Night had quickly fallen by the time they arrived; Ronald was unable to fully transition both himself and Grell between both worlds with great accuracy. He ended up at the edge of London and the countryside, barely making the journey by foot with the moon above their heads.

He rushed through Phantomhive estate, carrying the older reaper as they cut through the gardens after traversing over the lawn. He sat Grell down upon a stone bench near some roses, telling him to stay there before hurrying to the back door and knocking, hoping Sebastian wasn't too busy.

There was no answer when he tried the back door. He raised his shaking, desperate hand at the door once more but it swung open, revealing the butler by the candlelight. Sebastian glowered down at him, but then his eyes softened as he calmly asked,"Where is he?"

He had a white blanket tucked under his arm.

"Over here." Ronald said, turning and hurrying back to Grell, he sat down next to the broken redhead, taking his hand in his own, giving him a comforting squeeze, "Senpai...Sebastian said he'll try to help you." he said gently.

Grell's eyes looked up at Ronald wearily as Sebastian followed him. The butler gently pushed aside Ronald and got to one knee, examining the poor man himself.

"Grell Sutcliff, do you remember me?" Sebastian asked, taking one hand under Grell's chin and tilting his head left to right, watching Grell's eyes follow him.

"Y-yes," Grell murmured, eyes not leaving Sebastian's. They were fixed, almost trained on his, cautiously keeping him within his sight. Sebastian's own eyes changed, slowly turning from the warm, amber eyes to a sudden violent purple; Grell began to scoot away but the pain shot through him, keeping him in place. "Will you beat me as well?...demon?"

Sebastian got up. He ignored the question as he took out his pocket watch to check the time. "About half an hour from midnight." He brought stowed away his watch and unfolded the blanket, covering Grell's form; the reaper thanked him and instantly wrapped himself with it. "We might as well get started. Carry him, I doubt in his state he can walk at all." Grell's hand sought Ronald's once again, he pulled him closer. "He seems to barely have the mental capacity to stay with us if he chooses to follow too."

He went towards a pair of gates that served as a boarder between the garden and the wooded area of the Estate. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that they were behind hm.

Ronald scooped Grell up into his arms, bridal style, holding him close. "It's going to be okay, Grell," he reassured him in a gentle voice, "I promise I'll save you from Eric." He pressed a chaste kiss to the older reaper's temple before following the crow demon out of the garden. He didn't know exactly what the butler had planned, but it'd be better than letting the Ministry wrongly punish Grell...letting them lock him up where he;d be a sitting duck for the vengeful former reaper they had once called friend.

Grell laid limp, his eyes closing when he felt he was in Ronald's arms. He finally found some sort of solace, some comfort, and he was showing it without words; Sebastian could easily see it when he gave a quick glance at them. He held the candle a bit higher to illuminate the path despite not needing the light for himself.

Habits die hard for him, pretending to be a human has began to leave a mark in his ways.

He traversed between the trees, the shrubs, the bushes, even through a few long grass, clearing the way with his free arm for Ronald. It was quiet save for the occasional sounds of the wildlife and their feet crunching against the dried leaves. A cold wind blew in so suddenly, strange considering how the forest had begun to thicken with trees preventing such a gust to come by.

The candle was easily snuffed out, leaving only the darkness and the faint moonlight to guide their way.

A familiar change in the air hit the demon. Taunting and challenging, testing his will and seeing if he can be provoked into fighting; that was the sense of another of his own kind. A presence not of this world but of his own domain brought Sebastian to pause for a moment, causing him to hold up a hand to signal Ronald to stop. He suddenly crouched down, gesturing him to do the same, when he found a bush to hide behind.

"What is it?" Ronald whispered,holding Grell closer in comfort. He glanced around the wood, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

He checked his watch quickly, seeing it only fifteen minutes until midnight. They were half way to the designated spot he had chosen for this; he could have done this at the Estate but he didn't want to give a long explanation to his Young Master or the others. He brought his finger to his lips and motioned Ronald to be quiet.

Grell groaned, he seemed to have felt the change as well.

The whistle of an old, jolly tune came out of the darkness, Sebastian reached forth and pulled a branch an inch to the side to reveal a figure walking towards their concealed spot. The figure advanced closer before stopping, then whistling louder and taking in a heavy sigh.

By the moonlight, the unmistakeable blond hair and white dress shirt were seen. It was Eric. The man got to one knee and examined the ground, the spot that they were standing in moments before. All movement cased from the three of them, almost breathtaking knowing that he was just a few feet away.

"I can smell you, you filthy animal," Eric huskily growled, tongue licking his lips. He got back up and let out a disturbing chuckle, sinister and dark; Sebastian felt he was taunting him. The younger demon stood up and walked in a different direction, the wind followed and vanished with the creature. Once confirming that he was gone, Sebastian got up; he aided Ronald up as well.

He beckoned the young Shinigami with a hushed voice,"Hurry, and pick up the pace," as he brought out a match box to light the candle once more. The light lit the area once again, it danced wildly as Sebastian took longer strides. "I fear he knows where we are, I wouldn't be surprised if he had familiars to watch us..."

Ronald bit his lip, following close behind Sebastian.

_How does he know we're in the Human Realm?_

It didn't matter, he found them and they were soon going to be hunted down. All that mattered was Grell's safety. "What exactly are we doing?" He whispered.

"We are heading to a safe place," he responded.

Sebastian pushed a branch out of his way, revealing a clearing where a stone chapel stood in ruins. It had a pathway heading towards them but centuries of abandonment caused the brush to accumulate, hiding it from the world. The structure had also given way, not only by time, but through a horrid event that happened so long ago.

"A village was once under the protection of the Phantomhives generations ago. It was on a Bonfire Night that demons chose this as a place to enter the living; the Phantomhive of that time rallied his forces and drove the demons into this church and began to bombard the church with cannons and such. Unfortunately, demons are quite strong, so they escaped unscathed."

Evidence of such an extermination could be seen of obscure and misplaced boulders that had clashed with the wall. The debris was easy to pass over as they sprinted through the open field with haste. They stopped when they drew close to the building.

"The village now just lies in ruins as the people were evacuated; the name of this place is long lost but the records of its location were found in the archives of my Master's library. All that's left is this."

He motioned towards a stonework on the wall bearing the Phantomhive crest upon the side of the church's wooden doors.

"My Young Master has yet to learn more his predecessors."

He pulled at the rusted latch and forced the ancient doors to open, causing a thundering ruckus that made several birds in the area take off from their nests. He allowed Ronald in first and followed suit.

The old chapel still had termite eaten pews that were either in place, shoved against the walls, or splinted in various spots. The stained glass had shattered, leaving on the black frames that told of their images. Sebastian's candle, once so small, grew at the demon's manipulation, quadrupling in size and becoming a ball of fire that sent out flaming snakes that whirled to the old torches that still clung to the pillars on the sides.

It was a fairly large building, stretching a two hundred feet or so from the doors to the alter. Above their heads, the flames went to the single chandelier that hung on the last rafter; the rest of the ceiling had collapsed, crushing several pews. The open night could be easily seen. A few, gaping holes were passed, indicating that it was blown at the sides as well by cannon fire.

Sebastian took a moment to let the light fill the aged chapel, then turned to Ronald once the candle was reduced to its tiny, flickering self.

He blew it out and placed the candle holder to the ground when they finally reached the alter. Grell awoke at the soft **clunk** of metal, his hand shakily removed his blanket as he breathed in fresh air. He glanced around, murmuring,"What...is this?"

"Safe...I hope," Ronald said with uncertainty, glancing around and looking to Sebastian for confirmation. The butler motioned towards a stone slab. He set the red reaper down, running his fingers through red strands, "Don't be scared."

"This is a safe place?" He glanced at the ruins. "It...doesn't look fortified, nothing, Ronald..." He started grasping for him. "Ronald, I don't feel safe at all!"

The Scarlet had lost its effect over the duration of time, Grell was beginning to show his vulnerability. His ability to speak with the passionate flare he always had was gone, little trace of it was left; all that was there of Grell was him, beaten and broken. All because of Eric, Grell's mind had reeled into the border of insanity, his mind was slowly showing signs of degradation.

He wouldn't blame him. If he were being hunted as an animal, and he knew that he would be haunted, he too would surely lose his head.

As Grell's cries began to grow, Ronald caressed his cheek, leaning closely to his ear to whisper,"You are safe, and you will be." He sat down next to him and picked him up once more and held him to his chest; he sat upon a stone slab. "I promise you that."

He could hardly believe himself, the fact that he was holding Grell for the final time scared him. He never feared death before because it came so sudden, he had less to care for in that past life. But now, he had someone in his hands, someone worth dying for. Grell's hands frantically reached out to hold around Ronald's neck; in response Ronald lowered his head and bent over to bring him closer. Grell's impending hysteria ceased and the redhead quieted himself.

He took in his scent. Dead roses and something sweet, he kept his mind trained on the scent but then Sebastian's voice broke into his thoughts,"We have a minute before midnight, please, place him down and away from sight. Come meet your fate."

Ronald pulled away from Grell, he was reluctant. He still cradled him, his hands clenching to the blanket and Grell. He looked down at Grell, uttering,"I wish I had more time..."

"R-Ron...? What does he mean, _'Meet your fate'_?" Grell asked his eyes wide with fear as they searched Ronald's features, his fingers curling around the hem of the younger reaper's jacket, "Ronnie...why did you bring me here?"

"Grell..." He softly began. "It's for your own good."

His hand reached to Grell's and held it. He brought it to his face so that he would caress his cheek. He felt tears swelling up in his eyes but he held them back as best he could. He wished he wasn't the one to do this, he wished William were here to give his soul but the man had already sacrificed himself. He turned his head and kissed the palm of Grell's hand.

"I don't know...what you did to Eric, but you don't deserve what his torment," he muttered,"you deserve to live your life as best you can without fear. Fear shouldn't rule your life, not ever."

He was refusing to answer Grell's first question. He leaned close, and was about to have their lips meet, but the thunder of the wooden doors exploded, breaking up the silent peace of the old chapel.

"Get up!" The butler hissed, Ronald did so immediately, startled by the noise.

Sebastian ripped Grell from Ronald's arms and placed him to the ground as best he could. He took the blanket from him as he began to shove Ronald to the alter. The blond reached out to Grell, trying to touch him once last time, but the butler simply grabbed his arm and forced him to lay on the alter.

"Ronnie!" Grell gasped watching in wide-eyed horror as Ronald was ripped away from him. Grunting in pain, he tried to push himself up, his legs giving out quickly. He seized up, hearing familiar approaching footsteps, catching a glimpse of Eric out the corner of his eye. Not safe. This place was not safe! Unable to do much else, he wished himself invisible, wiggling himself under the rotting pew he was near, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as the demon stalked right past him...right towards Ronald.

"Live for me!" He gasped out as Sebastian quickly brought the blanket up and over Ronald's laying form. He let it billow and flutter over the body, he done so in a way that prevented the approaching demon from seeing who was truly under the covers.

The foreboding steps that came too close for comfort prompted Sebastian to turn and face Eric. The blond demon was as poorly dressed in this form as he was in his other life. His white shirt was clean and pure, no indication of blood or wear and tear. Sebastian smiled warmly to him, but the other man's face contorted in disgust, shock, and complete and utter hatred.

Sebastian brought his hands out and lightly clapped them together in a mocking praise, each clap resounding in the chapel. "I see that you brought yourself from Hell to here...it would be a shame if you couldn't finish what you're trying to do." He bowed slightly with a hand to his chest. "On good faith, as one demon to another, the soul you desire so much is here."

If Eric would have turned around, he would have found Grell under the pew, he was just a foot away. Sebastian took note of that and decided to keep Eric's attention forward, it would be a waste if the hell spawn were to see the desperate redhead.

Ronald held his breath, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He was going to die here...but at least Grell would be safe. He'd get away. He closed his eyes, the anticipation...the waiting...it was killing him more than the actual act would. At least his actual death would be quick. Waiting to die, without having that chance to confess to Grell... to hold him and kiss him...it was the worst. What was taking Eric so long?

Grell held in a whimper, watching tearfully at the scene. Ronald was sacrificing himself? Truly? Why would the young reaper do such a thing? And then it clicked. While Grell had been so focused over the years on chasing after William's heart...Sebastian's...and a few other handsome men that caught his eye...Ronald was always right there next to him, supporting him and looking after him...Love. The boy loved him, and he had been so blind to it Desperate for love, yet unable to see when it was right next to him. He'd ignored Ronald in favor of other men...he'd insulted him and probably had hurt him countless times, and yet, here he was, sacrificing his reaper life to a demon so that Grell could live. The redhead's heart began to ache for the young blond.

Eric let out a feral snarl, almost sounding like an animal more than man. His teeth were bore themselves, the sharp canines gleamed at him, along with the equality of those violent, amethyst orbs that pierced Sebastian with a deathly glare. "You again!?" He roared with such ferocity, the closest candles doused themselves.

Impulsively, he lunged at Sebastian, he was blinded by rage. A fatal mistake to a demon, especially one of new blood. Sebastian stood there, he did not shirk, and his demeanor forced Eric to cease his movements; he paused a few steps away. Demons would typically challenge one another, but an older, much more wiser one, would prefer to speak it out; the realization dawned upon Eric but the man was still willing to fight when given the chance.

"Ah, as a demon you have much to learn. Very, very much," Sebastian began,"but don't take me as your own teacher. I came into this world alone but with one desire, I'm sure you understand that by now-"

"Just shut up," Eric hissed, suddenly brave enough to push Sebastian to the side. He was close to the body under the blanket. His hand shot to clutch at where the arm would be, holding it and wresting it back and forth before roughly dropping it. He leaned over, his nostrils flaring like a bloodhound, trying to decipher who was under the cover.

Grell covered his eyes. He couldn't watch. he didn't trust himself to. He couldn't move. couldn't speak, he was so scared. Maybe Eric would leave? Give up? Let Ronald live? He hoped so...for Ronald's sake.

"It's Grell," he confirmed to himself. He smiled, eyes wild with the end of a torturous struggle. "I can end this." His voice was raspy with relief and apprehension, but it was maddening to hear it. "I can end him, right here, right _now_!"

Sebastian merely took a step back to be away from the former member of the Dispatch Society. He took his place near Grell, standing in front of him to prevent him from being seen. A knife slid down his sleeve, he could sense a sadist when he can; the overwhelming excitement Eric was beginning to endure would be enough to blind him from reason.

"Hurry up and be done with this," Sebastian commanded,"I have a child at home waiting to be cared for by daybreak."

But Eric ignored him. The crazed man removed a glove from his left hand, his pale skin shown itself to be duller than stone. His nails, black and almost claw-like in length, grew until they were thicker and sharp; he hopped atop the alter, crouching on Ronald.

"I want to see your life leave your eyes when I'm through with you," Eric said as evenly as possible. "I want to hear you beg for mercy..." His hand reached for the blanket's edge, but Sebastian cleared his throat to interrupt the beast.

"It's best you let him not see anything, the screams are more satisfactory-"

Eric let out a terrifying roar in defiance towards him. It was something inhuman, terrifying even; Sebastian grew silent.

The blanket was lifted, revealing Ronald Knox.

The breath caught in Ronald's throat as he stared up at the demon who had once been his friend. His eyes, claws, fangs. The former reaper was terrifying, and Ronald began to tremble. The madness in blood-red eyes told him that it hadn't registered that Ronald was not Grell, but half of him feared that Eric would realize the trick. "End it..." he whispered, pleadingly, "Just end this, end it all..."

Eric's eyes were wide. They radiated fervent ecstasy turning to confusion, then finally turning to anger. His lips twitched in agitation. His hand went to Ronald's chest, three of his nails dug through the fabric and skin of the crook of his neck so easily; he was pinning him in place.

He leaned towards him to whisper dangerously in his ear,"Where...is...Grell Sutcliff?"

Ronald cried out in pain, "Eric...Eric please! T-take me instead! Whatever Grell did...let-ghhn-me end it..." He lifted a shaky hand and gripped Eric's wrist, "Kill me."

Eric shook his head. "No," he replied quietly. "No, kid, no."

He dragged his hand down his chest, leaving horrid, pulsating gashes down his front.

"No. I have a better idea." He sneered as his other hand went to claw at Ronald's chest, breaking through the skin and tearing at the muscle like a cat would do so against a wooden post. He done so in a slow and agonizing pace, eventually ending at the waist. There was a defined "X" across his entire abdomen with blood gushing profusely from the marks.

So much was pouring in such a short time, one could have mistaken the alter for a fountain.

He started once more with intention on breaking through the bones. He paused when he saw a feint glow resonate front his chest; the beginning of a Cinematic Record being ready for harvest. Eric's hand went to the clump of strands that shown themselves, grasping them like a yard of rope and then pulling at it.

There was a slight difficulty in doing so as Ronald's soul firmly lodged itself to his corporeal form. Eric tugged for a moment or two before it let loose, the whiteness abundantly pouring from Ronald's chest. There was a crazed laughter from the demon as the Cinematic Records began to snake around him, enshrouding him for a moment, but there was enough left that allowed the blond to live for a bit longer.

Ronald cried out until his voice cracked and his scream fell silent as he stared up at the demon.

Grell shook. No. No, this was wrong! Ronald shouldn't even be a part of this! He moved to try and stop it, but Sebastian moved as well, blocking him in. He glared at the butler. How could he stand there and let such a horrible thing happen to Ron?!

"Come out, Grell," he challenged into space, bare hand bleeding from handling such a powerful force. He continued to pull. The boy lived for only a century, but years add up, and every frame felt like there was an infinite possibility that another would follow. "Come out if you want to save him..."

Sebastian kept a hand down, a silent signal for Grell to stay. "I offered you a soul, not a toy-"

"This isn't Grell, you damn dog!" Eric snapped. "I refuse to accept this soul!"

He released Ronald's Cinematic Records and kicked himself off of the altar, he stalked to Sebastian, a bloody finger pointing at him in the face.

"How dare you try to trick me, how dare you interfere!" He pointed it at the alter. "How dare you give me him! That little bastard, he's no use to me! I don't want him, I want Grell, the whore that ruined my life!"

"Then ruin his in turn, let him live an eternity in loneliness and endure what you feared the most," Sebastian replied, his tone firm. Eric's eyes lit up in interest. "A fair punishment, don't you agree?"

"Yes...perhaps...or perhaps you're just hiding him, and for what purpose you need of him existing is beyond me. I'll kill you, then the boy, and then Grell...I'll wipe everyone that was there that night, the ones who turned against me- the one who killed me- the one who brought this upon me, I'LL HAVE ALL OF YOUR HEADS! I'LL BRING YOU DEATH!"

His screams resonated in the chapel as he leaped back. Landing behind the altar and the idly floating Cinematic Records, he had no view of Grell's hiding spot. Over the instantaneous laughter, Sebastian quickly offered a hand to Grell. His voice hastily demanded,"Your death scythe, give it."

Grell immediately refused. "Why? You could have asked earlier, you could have killed Eric when you had the chance but why now!?" He slowly drew strength to crawl under the pew to get away from Sebastian. So many weeks of being in bed and having no use of his legs surely brought him to a state likened to being maimed. His ankle, while not longer sprained, was still from the lack of use. His knees and hands were only covered by the skirt and sleeves of his nightgown from the hospital. "I'll...I'll save Ronald myself-"

But a hand came to his head and grabbed a clump of his hair. His hand instinctively went up, waiting for his weapon to fall into his frail palm; his powers felt so weak, strangely. When his beloved chainsaw failed appear he screeched in panic, alerting everyone of his location.

The laughter stopped. The Cinematic Records even paused briefly, only for a heartbeat. The hand forced him out from under the pew and to his knees. Time seemed to stop, and Grell could only look, not at Sebastian, but at Eric.

Eric stared back at him, locking gazes with him, saying a single word that wasn't screamed nor shouted but almost mouthed with a bit of air passing through his lips: **"You."**

* * *

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

A violent clatter of metal broke the silence and set time in motion.

All eyes turned to a chainsaw that produced, not near Grell, but near Eric's feet. It was to everyone's horror and Eric's delight that the death scythe, the only weapon capable of ending all life known to the many races. Eric smirked in satisfaction and simply picked it up.

He tested its weight by giving it a few swings. He scrutinized its design, his hands prodding around the contraption before finding the cord. There was a moment when all breaths were held as he pulled at it, trying to get the engine to start. About several heartbeats later, the death scythe roared to life.

Grell couldn't understand. He meant to summon it for himself, and for a moment he thought he couldn't call it forth at all. "Oh no," he breathed as Sebastian released him. The blades began to rotate, Eric was setting it at full power.

His instinct told him to run, as did Ronald when the boy mustered the strength to shout with a hoarse voice,"RUN!" Grell's legs could barely carry him, his hands grasped at the pew; a matter of life or death got him to stand at all. He stumbled over, falling to the ground once more. Helpless.

Ronald shouted once more,"GET OUT OF HERE!"

"Shut up, you're beginning to annoy me, kid." Eric took a hold of Ronald's throat, his claws ripped out several muscles, silencing him. He then sped after Grell.

Sebastian slid between Eric and Grell, pulling out his silver knives he often used for a fight, his red eyes narrowing. "I offered you more than you deserve. What makes you think you have the right to take what you wish? You have a lot to learn about the demon world, Slingby," he hissed. He wasn't happy about engaging in a battle, but he was a man of his word. And he had said he'd help Ronald save the red reaper, even though Grell had been a rather large thorn in his side many times. He mused,"What a disgrace."

Above the chainsaw's racket, Eric responded,"I have all rights! I am well justified! Should any of you make it out of here alive, I suggest you ask Grell what he did...I'm sure by now he knows what he did, don't you-"

"I already know what I did!" Grell screamed sharply in admittance, dragging himself along the stone floor. "You...you could have killed me that night, but you sought to simply torture me, you twisted animal! You horrid beast...I...I pray for Sebastian to cast you back from whence you came!"

"I refuse to return without you!" He shouted. His attention went to Sebastian, his eyes flickered to him as they became a brilliant violet. His heel sprang from his spot as he shot himself to the butler. He was enraged but he was smart to target the butler first before going after the weaker one.

Sebastian evaded the attack easily and countered it with his own, his bored look never leaving his face. "Could you at least try to make this interesting for me?" He asked, teasing his opponent with slicing into his arm when he could have just as easily delivered a much more devastating blow; digging his blades deep into Eric's chest or cutting his arm clean off.

"Interesting!?" Eric barked. He landed in close proximity while ignoring the clean cut the silverware had made in him, one foot taking a hold of the ground while the other was brought up to squarely knee him in the abdomen. "I promise you, this won't be the same as last time!"

He sent Sebastian flying into a pile of rotted pews. He then barreled after him, the death scythe wildly whirling above his head.

Sebastian barely seemed phased by the blow he took, "I should hope not. No demon should ever beg to be killed for any reason. Even a newborn like you." He rolled to the side, letting the scythe's blades cut into the rubble inches from his head, and he kicked up into Eric's abs, pushing him back. "Hm, you see, the type to beg anyway."

"I'm not the one begging for death this time- UNGH!" But the kick was enough to topple him. He dislodged the death scythe from the stonework as he staggered back. His lips twitched in irritation and his eyes flickered towards Grell's retreating form.

He was a dozen yards away. His eyes flickered once more at the torch above his head. There was a gleam in his eyes and he let out a deafening roar. It was so much, Grell had to cover his ears to muffle the intensity; his eyes were even forced shut. When he opened them, he found himself in complete darkness with only the bright glow of Cinematic Records illuminating the chapel.

_He snuffed out the light with his voice-?_

Suddenly, Grell felt someone take him by the hair. He suspected it to be Sebastian once again, but when he looked up, he saw Eric. Grell's eyes went wide with terror and his lips released a piercing scream. He felt strength in his legs and he kicked to the floor, his hands raised up to fight against Eric's grip.

"Come any closer...the bastard gets it," he threatened, the rotating blades suddenly brought near the side of Grell's head.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you wanted to begin with? Why bother using it as a threat? If you want his soul, you should have just taken it! Playing with your food only leads to you loose it!" In a split second the butler was behind Eric, splitting the two apart and taking Grell into his own arms as he kicked Eric away. "Such a revolting creature you are!"

Grell clung to Sebastian, arms immediately going around his neck for support. He could barely see in the darkened room but he saw Eric looked fazed for a moment. Once again, the blond demon recollected himself and took chase after the pair. Keeping his sights trained on him, Grell told the butler,"He's a...lesser demon than you...can't you cast him out from here yourself?"

Sebastian whisked him to the alter, pausing briefly before leap up to the rafters above. Eric followed easily, death scythe digging into a nearby beam.

"I would if I could, but I need time. As much as it is easy for me to evade him, he needs to be distracted for a little bit so I can at least open the Doors to Hell," he explained briefly,"that itself takes time."

"How long?"

"A few seconds, but I must admit he gets in the way easily," he mused before the support for one of the wooden beams gave out. This prompted him to head back to the lower level where the two looked up at Eric. Grell bit at his lip as Eric prowled above their heads.

He asked Sebastian,"What do you think can distract a demon?"

"It varies from demon to demon. What works on me probably won't work on him." He explained quickly, "And right now the only thing I can think of that would possibly work would put you in danger. Then it'd be for nothing so I might as well not try it."

Grell looked over at Ronald. The boy was barely alive. His eyes were open and his chest was heaving for air. The blood had slowly stopped flowing but his innards were looked ready to show themselves. He grimaced, his heart tore at the sight of him. He could barely understand that Ronald would go so far just to save him; at this point, he felt his efforts were in vain.

Eric was just waiting to come down. With Sebastian unable to send him off to the Lake of Fire, Grell wished William would be there; his presence had a profound effect on Eric. He whispered,"William...it's a dire hour..."

Grell looked up once again, then it hit him. True, William only came at his most dire hour; the last time, however, he was near death. He could hope he would come by chance this time to end this all.

"...Sebastian, leave me in the middle of the aisle," he softly requested," when you get the chance, open the Doors to Hell."

It was a dangerous gamble.

Not knowing his intention, Sebastian let a small flicker of shock cross his face but he hid it quickly, "If that is your wish." He set him down and backed away to the back wall, towards the alter, his eyes fixed on the demon above. "Your last chance, Slingby."

Grell trembled with fear. He would be daft to do this, and he is. He started to question himself whether anything is sane anymore. As he sat there, he looked up with fear at Eric's form atop the rafters. This was something from a nightmare, he couldn't wake up from this. He's sitting there, touching the ground, fiddling with the dress, feeling his skin.

He was very much alive. He held spite for himself due to being the only one of his friends to live. He couldn't understand why he would have to suffer. Sitting here, it was suicide. A beast, ready to strike at any chance, was the bullet, the bite was the trigger, the pain following suit would be death.

Alan. William. Very soon, Ronald. Gone. The people he loved. Even Madam Red. He had no one live for at this point. He threw his head back and shouted in resolution,"End it for me, Eric! Kill me! Right now! Finish what you started and end this nightmare!"

His eyes were wide. Fear had taken over, but he had nowhere to run. Eric responded with a pleasured voice,"Of course, by your request..."

The demon swung back, flipping around a beam before descending upon Grell, chainsaw madly roaring to end its master.

He was getting close, so close, Grell shut his eyes and covered his head. He was waiting for the rotating blades to rip through his skin, or maybe even cleave him in the head. Sure, he heard skin before torn to shreds, but it wasn't his. He opened his eyes to see a man in black that had taken the onslaught for him.

"WILLIAM!" Eric's shout of surprise rose over the sound of the engine. Grell only saw the back of William, the blades had impaled him through the chest, where his heart would be; he'd be dead by now, but he was already dead. He saw Eric immediately release his grip on the chainsaw, he was confused and utterly scared; fear was never something you see in a demon, especially in Eric of all people. He was petrified a few feet away, eyes fixed on the man he killed weeks ago.

William stood over Grell, the chainsaw still whirling about. His hand went up to take a grip on the handle. Sickeningly, he unsheathed the weapon from his body and turned, offering the purring engine to Grell. Grell feebly took it and William immediately went before him.

"End this nightmare," William told him as he picked him up under his arms. Grell's legs were weak, he threatened to fall but the sight of Wiliam gave him the encouragement he needed. He took his first steps with William still holding him. Grell shakily nodded as he began to pick up the pace. He found himself jogging towards Eric. His feet began to fly under him as he sprinted, the support of the man was still there, holding him up.

His hand intertwined with the grip and Grell's hand. It was invigorating. Grell's other hand went to the trigger and changed the setting, the familiar and comforting blare of his beloved weapon gave him a touch of courage. It felt like an eternity to deliver his attack, but the reality only lasted for a second.

"No...no, no, no, NO! NO! HOW ARE YOU STILL HERE!?"

In that second, the chainsaw met flesh and bone. Grell had broke through the skin, he blinked for a moment, William had disappeared. Eric's howls of pain reverberated throughout the chapel, but Grell found the strength to press on, going until the engine was touching his chest.

"SEBASTIAN, NOW!" Grell screamed as a white light began to pour from Eric's wound.

The butler said nothing, already concentrating on opening the doors to Hell, only vaguely aware of the help Grell had received. Not that he cared much if a fragmented soul had shown up. He took out a matchbox lit a stick on fire; he took a torch from the wall and lit the wick on fire. He removed a glove to his left hand and let the fire lick the tips of his fingers before his energy forced it to grow and shoot for the wall.

It formed his personal sigil upon the cold wall. The flames stuck it and he quickly brought his hand to the surface of it, creating a red, flowing fissure that slowly began to split the sigil in half. Simultaneously, the symbols and letters rearranged themselves, forming an image of two, intricate doors that slowly turned from gray stone to black iron.

As Sebastian worked upon opening the doors, the white produced strands of the film from Eric's chest. It dangled loosely but the further Grell pressed on, the more it came pouring out; much to his shock, only a single stand shown itself. It fluttered but eventually began to flash various scenes of the most recent events as the charming tune began to play from his death scythe. Starting from that fated day, Eric's return became clear...

_"...Eric...you love him, don't you?" Eric made a gesture to hit him, ready to throttle him for asking such an obvious question. "Just answer me."_

_"...I'll commit any sin to share his pain," Eric said coldly._

_Grell walked to the other side of Alan. "...there is one cure...just one, one that's considered a sin for all reapers." He was staring down at Alan's sweaty face, his hand went to caress his cheek and to wipe away a few beads of sweat. Eric eyed that hand touching his Alan, but he listened carefully to Grell, an incident like this will happen over and over, and never cease until Alan's soul was eaten from the inside and torn to shreds by the Thorns of Death, the souls that he pitied all those years before. "...a thousand innocent human souls, the Thorns of Death will find it as compensation for the reaper's own soul and consume those instead."_

He convinced Eric to go on a suicide mission, the source of Eric's wrath centered upon that moment.

_Eric had awoken in the fires, his body scorching in the flames of pain that as he was subjected to. His mind was twisted the longer he stayed in that firing bath. He was being punished. He wanted to leave, to go elsewhere, anywhere to escape the pain. He was aware of his sins...but the thought of Grell was all he could focus, all he could find himself to blame._

_His body flailed, his mind reeled, his voice howled with the myriad that shared this part of Hell with him. And then...it was gone._

_He was suspended in darkness, nude, but he felt he was being watched._

_A voice shot into his mind,"Would you like relief from this? Power?"_

_"YES!" He screamed into the black space. "ANYTHING BUT THIS!"  
_

_All rationale was gone. The voice chuckled,"Then you shall serve me, your Lord. I go by many names...but you will address me as...Mephistopheles."_

_Eric gritted his teeth. It was the Devil addressing him. He remembered hearing that name from the old Faust legend. "..."_

_"You want revenge now, I can see it...after all, I don't pick just any ol' soul; I personally look through all records for potential servants; yours...intrigued me." A small flame appeared upon Eric's skin. He stared at it in horror before it grew, engulfing him; he screamed once more as he saw his own skin melt off of his body. "I took your situation to consideration. Thank your new Master. Say `_ Thank you, Mephistopheles.` _"_

_Eric shouted in agony,"T-thank you...Mephistopheles!"  
_

_"When you awaken, you will have been reborn as a demon, as my kin. Be grateful- ah, it seems someone needs you. I shall await your return, Eric Slingby."_

_The bright fires of that world he knew were gone. He was laying upon a wooden floor, face down, barely clothed and his skin still tingling from the burning sensation. His eyes were wide, he touched the floor to ensure he was alive. He touched his face, his skin was intact and not melting off. He got to his knees and looked around, confused and yet wondering who he should thank for pulling him out of Hell._

_"I summoned you, old friend," came a familiar, gruff voice. Eric turned around to see Rivers. Rivers Mason, a fellow Dispatch Officer._

Grell's eyes widened with anger at the sight of Rivers. He was the man who locked him in that night, the security guard! He was the reason Eric was able to enter the Shinigami Realm without persecution. The scene continued.

_"W-why?" Eric coughed out as he managed to stand on his feet. He looked down to see a bloodied pentagram surrounded by candles. He never knew Rivers would be capable of such an act. He shouldn't be questioning why...but he was grateful._

_"Do you remember that my wife and I were divorced...around the time before you and Alan...y'know...left?" Rivers began, offering Eric a bottle of brandy._

_"Memory serves right...yeah," Eric murmured, stepping out of the pentagram and taking the bottle. He drank it and sat himself on the floor, leaning against the wall._

_"It was because of Spears. He gave me more overtime than what should be considered normal. Naturally, with Grell fucking around, I was given the extra time; that places strains on my marriage. Next thing I knew, my children and wife are off and gone and I'm paying alimony. He was giving me overtime, I lost my family because of him. I want him dead, our kind will be better off without that tyrant...so I brought you here to kill him. And Grell too, if you're up to it. Finish off the last of his team...""_

_Eric's eyebrows lifted in interest. Grell...Grell. Grell. Grell._

_"You're a demon now," Rivers stated, giving him a mirror. Eric saw his reflection; those green eyes were now auburn. "...imagine the power you have. Imagine what you can do."_

_He led him to sin. He had an intensive now. He was in debt to Rivers as well, he felt he had a duty for take care of his former boss first before pursuing Grell._

Various scenes flashed of Eric tormenting William for the passed few months, testing his new powers. It began with tricks of the eyes, mental illusions, then physical contact. Finally, assault came in.

Throughout this interval, Eric began to learn that the source of his powers came from the energy generated by fear.

_William had finished taking his medication. He was readying himself for bed, tired and weary; he was seeing things and, above all, had convinced himself that Eric was here. He began to slowly accept it. The attacks stopped for over a week when he reached his limit, he figured that Eric had grown bored. He knew he should have reported this to someone, but the Scarlet held him back. The more he took, the less memories he had, and the more Eric took the chance to manipulate him. He had grown weak under this. He could barely get a hold of himself..._

_As he hummed, a knock on the door stopped him from heading up the stairs, he answered it with an unpleasant smile. "What?" He asked irritably. "Do you have any idea what time it is-"_

_When the visitor was revealed, a punch was thrown at William's face, knocking him back. William looked at his assailant in horror; it was Rivers, followed by Eric._

_"Good Lord!" He shouted. He summoned his death scythe but Eric quickly pinned his arm down to snatch it away. Releasing him, he picked him up by the collar of his shirt; William struggled to fight back, and he did. He was jostled around, breaking through the banister of the stairs and being hurled against the wall. Before he knew it, he was subjugated within a matter of moments._

The scene changed. Indeed, Eric met Alan for a temporary moment that very same night of Guy Fawkes Night.

_Eric took Alan by the waist and hand, telling him,"Alan, I've missed you so." It was a chance to rekindle. The younger man, dressed in the same attire he perished in, smiled and leaned into his hold. "I come back..."_

_"The dead had come back, everyone has," Alan laughed softly as he was swung around. The bagpipes, the fiddles, the drums, it was fun time for all. They danced on, going around and around. "I...I wish you were in Heaven..."_

_"Fate can be cruel," Eric answered to him,"but sometimes it could be favorable."_

_Alan looked up at him, worried. "Excuse me?"_

_Eric's eyes changed at that moment when the flames glared off of those warm orbs; Alan clearly saw that there were violet, even if only it were for a second. The young soul understood that Eric had been reborn; he was a demon. Immediately, Alan pulled himself away from him._

_"If you're a demon...that means you're here on your own accord, you didn't use the Bonfires to get here...what are you doing here?" Alan demanded._

_"I'm going to kill Grell," Eric said._

_"Why?"_

_"...for us, Alan, for us." It was more for himself. "He led us to this-"_

_"You're insane, you can't blame people for going to Hell! This is madness, listen to yourself, Eric, please...that man is innocent of anything, he had nothing to so with this."_

_Eric shook his head. "Alan, you don't know the truth-"_

_"Yes...I do, now. I know what kind of person you are...you're just a beast, an animal" he spat furiously, but as he was about to say his next piece, his body was thrust into the flames of the nearest bonfire; his time amongst the living expired. Eric glared at the flames, fist baling at his sides. He was about to leap in after him, but a hand went to his shoulder. It was Rivers once again._

_"Hey, Eric, I got William tied up in the staff lounge, all yours to kill...spotted Grell heading there right now, c'mon, before he gets in!"_

Grell saw himself heading into the office building at night, the beginning of this horrible nightmare. As Grell had aimlessly wandered throughout the office, Eric had taken up the task of quickly slaughtering William on Rivers's behalf, butchering him in the same fashion as Ronald and then pulling at his Cinematic Records. With the soul torn from the body, William could only pull little of himself together to guide Grell through that horrific night.

The fragment of William's soul had come to his rescue, preventing Eric from delivering the final blow and forcing him to retreat.

Weeks passed on after that night, Rivers was unable to attend to Eric due to the commotion of William's death; the demon simply resided in William's home for the duration. One day, as Eric had finished reading a newspaper, Rivers burst through the door, raving about Grell's hospitalization.

_"I could have killed him!" Eric shouted at Rivers in retaliation. "I killed Spears, but not that whore!"_

_Eric didn't want to be sent back to Hell for failing to kill William completely, he had to kill Grell; it felt like it was his only purpose in life now. William was the last thing on his mind now, he wanted to kill Grell as soon as he can, but Rovers had the connection; Eric was the gun and Rivers was the gunslinger. The bullet can only be fired if the trigger was bulled.  
_

_"There's a better plan," Rivers started with a wicked smile, the blond demon was glaring at him. "There's not enough evidence to prove that you murdered William, but there's enough to prove that Grell did so."_

_"Imprisoning him is just a waste of time, I want him dead, I want to kill-"_

_Eric was about to hit him, but Rivers held up his hands in defense. "But Ronald Knox...should the boy catch wind of this, surely he'll be impulsive to do something! Play hero, typical for a young man..." Eric frowned. "What?"_

_"I don't want him dead, I just want Grell," he said firmly,"I'm growing tired of wasting my time here butchering anyone else. He's injured and I can kill him right now if I want to!" His voice rose. "I'm tired of waiting!"_

_The sound of the front door being opened alerted them. Rivers went downstairs while Eric stayed where he was. He would rather not be caught. A few minutes passed when he heard a familiar voice speak on its own. Soon enough, when the intruder left, Rivers went back to Eric._

_"Devil be praised, Knox just came by and he's been ordered to take Grell to a certain...Sebastian Michaelis. We can finish this, now. You go and take care of this, finish this up." He gave Eric a pat on the shoulder. "And if Grell should live, I'll make sure he'll never be able to return to this world, you'll be given insurance to pursue him in the future should fail...once this is over, I can head to the States, be free of this damn country."_

With a final blast of demonic energy and the sigil split completely in half, the back wall of the church parted open and the flames of Hell shed light over the scene. Cries of tortured souls could be heard along with the occasional roar of a demon or two.

Sebastian leap back and out of the way. Spotting that Grell had his scythe back, he notified him.

Before Grell could see anymore of the Cinematic Record, Sebastian's voice rang through the darkness.

"I've done my part. Now would be a good time, Sutcliff, before it closes. Cast him into Hell yourself!"

Grell tuned his head to see that the butler had successfully opened the doors to a Lake of Fire. Grell turned back to Eric, the demon glared at him. Grell dislodged his weapon from his chest but then the support to stand was gone. He collapsed his knees as Eric's gaze began to be fixed upon the fires that threatened to pour into the chapel.

"I...can't take him there," Grell muttered, he lost the strength to stand, let alone be able to throw Eric into Hell. Just as he was about to pray for anything, William's form came out from the shadows cast by the fire. The man, with the gaping wound in his own chest, charged at Eric with a physical form that was only temporary for the moment; it was enough to send Eric hurtling towards the open doors.

Grell could only watch. He cried out,"William!" as the the demon flew over the alter and got himself ensnared by the Cinematic Rips that had abundantly swelled into the air from Ronald's chest. The demon's body pulled the last of the boy's soul out from his corporeal form, subsequently taking him to Hell with him; the howls of Eric chorused with the screams resonating from the fires.

William stood atop the alter, atop of Ronald's body, gazing into the flames. He turned and gave Grell a smile of relief, but the last of the glowing strips of film from Ronald suddenly took a hold around his ankles. The next thing Grell and Sebastian could see was William being thrown off of his feet.

"WILLIAM!" Grell shrieked, crawling as fast as he could towards the alter. William's hands clutched at the edge over Ronald's body, trying to save himself from being dragged to Hell. "No, you wont go there!"

Grell's hands met with William's, but he was shocked to find that they simply went through his fingers. Grell looked at Sebastian for help, but the demon stood there, unmoving.

William was only a soul, not a body, his corporeal form was gone and yet he was clinging to stay in the world of the living. He hastily uttered out,"Grell, I don't have that much time. Look at me."

They locked eyes, just briefly, before the man lost his grip upon the edge. His slipped away from sight, Grell pulled himself up with the support of the alter to see the last of William being hauled away.

Grell could only scream his name, that was all he could do as he reached out, hands flailing for him.

He watched William's hands grasping at the floor as he was being pulled by. His hands slapped against the stone floor, his mouth moving, letting out a fearful shout come out. He was bawling with the great doors closing all around him; William held to the threshold, his hand was holding him to the living. Soon enough the portal of Hell growing smaller, forcing him to relinquish his hold to the world and vanish amongst the flames.

As if it was expected, the doors sealed themselves shut, leaving only a crumbled wall of the chapel.

Sebastian felt quite satisfied. He had stuck to his word to help save Grell, and Grell was safe. Ronald had offered to die, so there was no loss there. He turned, his steps echoing off the walls in the deadly silence. He reached out, placing his hand on Grell's shoulder, "It's over. You're safe."

Grell brushed off his hand and scrambled around the alter for the wall. Scorched marks were on the floor, staining his white dress in black. His hands pounded on the wall as he shouted,"Open the doors! Open them! Why? Why did it take William!?"

He began to cry, his vision blurred.

"Why didn't you close the Doors before he went in!?" Grell cried at the butler.

"They close on their own, Grell. There was nothing I could have done to save That fragment of William's soul...or Ronald's. They, for what ever reason, sacrificed themselves for you. Don't waste their final gift to you by going in after them. It's already too late for them, they shall now dance the dance of the damned and sing the cries of the souls lost forever. But whatever for you..."

He strolled for the door. "You're alone in this world now."

"I..." He whimpered meekly. "I'm..."

The lights had gone out, leaving only Grell to himself. He remembered watching Eric's Cinematic Records, somewhere, the traitorous Rivers stated that he would report Grell's whereabouts to the Authorities. It didn't take much for the poor man to put two and two together.

He would soon be sought after by his own kind.

"W-wait! Sebastian!...please, take me with you. The Authorities may come here to search for me, and...and if you leave, I'll lie, I'll lie and say that you caused everything. This chapel is part of the Phantomhive grounds, is it not? And you're registered in our records...you'll be their first suspect, it'll complicate things for you," he threatened feebly. He was hoping he could find a way out of here, at the least.

"I have no need or desire for you, Grell Sutcliff. I helped because young Mr. Knox was desperate to save you. It intrigued me. I can handle any problems that may arise from my interference. But you...you'll do better to get far away from here if your so called 'Authorities' will come after you." The demon replied simply, slipping out of the ruined church. "May we never cross paths again."

"N-no! Don't leave me...alone."

But the butler was gone. Grell shivered as the darkness engulfed around him. He could only see through the feint moonlight. After a long time sitting there, back pressed against the wall, eyes in his arms, his sobs overwhelming him, Grell could only think of the unbearable fate he was given.

He lost track of time as he wept for hours on end.

He heard the sound of horses crying from the outside. He forced himself to recollect his battered mind.

He was hoping they were something else, maybe a part of his imagination, but he was wrong. His fears were confirmed when he heard a man barking at the others.

"Rivers, here it is! Just as you said! Tanner, Stephan, hold guard outside. Rivers, Theodore, you come inside with me!" Upon hearing Rivers's name, Grell immediately got up, adrenaline rather than an emotion was getting him to move.

He staggered to his chainsaw, taking it at hand and then sending it away. He whisked himself to Ronald's body, taking the covers off of him and then rifling through his pockets; he needed a secondary weapon, he knew Ronald always had one at hand.

By the time he took the switchblade, the ancient doors had groaned opened. He spotted Ronald's watch, he wanted a memento. As he slipped it off, he heard one of the men shout,"That sick bastard! He butchered the kid! Good God, Rivers, you're right about him!"

He heard someone vomiting off to the side. Grell managed to take off the watch and whirl around to see them carrying torches that brought a new light to the dark chapel. A man was kneeling over to the side with his partner making sure he was alright but another was getting ready to charge at him. The man that gave chase was Rivers.

"Get him!" One of the Shinigami yelled. "Don't let him make a Transition!"

He had only a second to gather what little power he had left that he could recover. Within that second, he had to make a Transition to anywhere he felt he could be safe. The coldness of the chapel had vanished, he was no longer stepping on stone, but rather, he was on carpet. The yelling was gone, he was greeted by silence; the bright fires of their torches vanished, he was welcomed by darkness once more.

The only safe place he could possibly think of now, on his own, was the home of Angelina Barnett, Madam Red.

His eyes had grown heavy, he clung to the watch and switchblade as he curled up on the carpeted floor. Exhaustion and misery had taken their toll upon him. He fell into a deep sleep, he dreamed. But in his dreams, all he could see were the bright flames of Hell and all he could hear were the screams of the damned; it would soon become a memory that would haunt him for the rest of his afterlife.

* * *

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

The first night Grell spent alone in Madam Red's abandoned manor was hard to bear, if he could remember whatever was left of that night. The next time he opened his eyes, light poured in from a dusty window; his eyes were assaulted by the crimson furnishings and carpeting of a drawing room. He groaned as he rolled from his back to his side, then finally his stomach.

He managed to drag himself on his own two feet to the master bedroom of the manor. Upon entering, he hauled himself over and collapsed upon the large bed, eyes closing shut with hands still clutching Ronald's watch and switchblade. While he was exhausted, he couldn't go back to sleep at all.

He could still see William being dragged to Hell. Those eyes, they still offered comfort in a time of distress, still offered something despite knowing where he would go. Grell shuddered. William asked him to look at him, Grell could never forget that.

And Ronald. The boy gave his life to him, Grell would never be able to return any feelings to him. He was madly in love, yet Grell never saw him anything else than just a friend. He felt an overwhelming guilt that would leave him tossing and turning the nights that followed his confinement in the late lady's bed.

He found himself crying once more, curling up in the covers of his dead mistress's bed for hours on end.

For countless days, he stayed in that room, unmoving from his spot, changing positions to avoid the sun's rays; he would only leave to help himself to the pantry to find sustenance, but it would be a meager meal before shuffling off back to the bath to care for himself, then back to his bed. One could have guessed the time in each of his spots, but only in the day. When night would come, he would stay put until dawn.

His wounds have healed, but the scars would forever remain in his mind. He swore he could hear voices, he swore he would hear Madam Red humming somewhere in the manor from time to time; when he did hear her, he would hum along. Eventually, however, he wanted to find the source of the humming as each passing day they would grow louder, as if getting closer.

He suddenly just...got up. His burning desire to find the humming ended abruptly when his feet touched the ground.

He had set the switchblade and wristwatch on the nightstand. He had forgotten they were there, even how they had gotten there. His hands went to pick them up, but he paused at the sight of his fingers; they were pale, bony even. He grimaced as his fingers clutched around the memorabilia, he decided to wear the watch as he sent away the switchblade for later use.

His hospital gown, no longer white and now stained in his filth, was quickly disposed of in the roaring fire he had made for himself. He noted that the manor had grown deathly cold, the explanation came when he passed a window to see that the front, unkempt yard had become covered in a layer of snow.

For the first time in a long while, he took a bath. As he examined his hair, he found that it had grown half a foot; he decided to cut that extra length when he got out of the tub. As his body dried, he also decided to tie his hair back with a black, satin ribbon he found laying around in the great lavatory.

He decided to make anew of himself as he entered the untouched dressing room of Madam Red's husband, the late Baron of Barnett. The poor man's size was just about enough for Grell.

Time alone forced him to contemplate.

He no longer had personal connections to his world. He was no longer wanted in his world. He now lost reason to return.

He had no home but the abandoned manor. He had no job but to stay alive. He had no love but only himself to survive.

Grell Sutcilff was no longer a part of anything.

Eric Slingby had taken away everything from him. His life, his love, even his image. While it would be a long-shot to get back at him, there would be no use. As he slipped on a pair of black slacks, his mind drifted towards Rivers, the man responsible for bringing Eric into the world. Sure, the man had his justifications, but the effects of his selfish action had brought Grell to this.

He smiled as he reached out for a white shirt and began to button it up to his neck. That smile wasn't one of delight, but of a twisted happiness; he had given himself a new reason, a tangible person to lay his wrath upon. Then Sebastian Michaelis...that was an issue for another time, he had all the time in the world to hunt him down as well; the demon allowed William to slip into Hell and, to make matters worst, left him to fend for himself.

At the back of the dressing room was a bureau that held the noble heirlooms that Madam Red appropriately tucked away, he decided to make use of them. The Barnett cuff-links were added after he tied a red ascot around his neck; to complete the look he found a ruby pendant to pin to the cloth around his neck. He took a silk vest from the clothing rack to add to his attire. A pair of flat shoes, which he hated, were the only option, he forced himself to take it.

The family ring, a silver jewelry with an obsidian centerpiece, was amongst the trinkets. He shrugged to himself and took it as well, wearing it on his right hand.

His hand pulled out a black long-coat, a copy of the one used as Jack the Ripper. He brought it over and wore it, pausing for a moment to glance at the mirror. With his hair tied back, he looked like that pathetic, mousy butler, only with red. He quickly untied his ribbon and ran his fingers through his hair, turning it from the stunning red to a dull brunette. He thought for a moment and, instead of keeping his hair up, he opted for a loose braid, letting the ribbon hold only the end of his hair.

His bangs were brushed back. It caused his glasses, oh the important glasses, to be accentuated. He removed them and found a pair of the round spectacles in the bureau, the deceased owner kept spares of the damn thing. His red glasses were stowed away in his pocket. He gave the mirror one last glance at himself.

None of the Shinigami would recognize him, this disguise was never used in front of anyone he knew, a reason why he got away so easily as the notorious killer. He grimaced at the plain look for a final time and walked out of the master's bedroom with a shoulder cloak in tow for venturing outside.

* * *

 

He chose to enter his world for a final time, after all, he went through the trouble of dressing himself to see off the men who sacrificed themselves for him.

The bodies of the dead were, if gathered, taken to a wide field where the fallen Shinigami were lain to rest.

Their bodies were eternal, undying unlike their souls that drifted elsewhere, capable of entering Heaven or Hell to either continue their services to Humanity through God (or just become a soul in Paradise, like Alan) or being condemned to Hell to either be reborn as Eric had or be punished. It was only natural to place them somewhere as cremation would be utterly useless.

He wandered through the snowy field, passing none as it was a Monday, everyone was working. He was thankful he didn't have a run-in with anyone. After half an hour of walking about, he eventually found them.

He stood before two, large granite crosses with golden plaques smelted to the center.

**Ronald Knox**

**William T. Spears**

There was no recognition, no epitaph. Only their names. Flowers weren't even dropped at their graves. Either the mourning had ended or the flowers were blown away.

Clutching at the hem of his coat, he dropped to his knees between them. His bare hands then went to the fallen snow and clenched it. The ice melted in his hands but the warmth was slowly ebbing away.

They were taken from him. Both of them. And he saw it all. One after the other.

He was weak and he couldn't do anything. He could hardly comprehend the pain they were facing in the fires of Lucifer.

"I thought I would find you here..."

He whirled around, his hands summoning the switchblade in response to the voice.

Undertaker was perched upon a black cross opposite of Ronald's grave, his feet dangling as he calmly sat there. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, one leg crossing over the other; his eyes were covered, a devious smile on his lips.

He looked like a crow in his cassock. A gray haired crow with his signature hat missing. Grell got up.

"I've been waiting months for you to show up. Fall until Winter..."

"And why would you?" Grell hissed, gripping the knife tighter. He wasn't sure if he could trust the Undertaker. The man was wanted for his own crimes, but he was also a legendary reaper, still revered as one of the best by the few who supported him; his story was obscured when Grell entered the Academy, reason as for why a successful man retired and shortly Deserted the society soon afterwards were untold. He wasn't going to chance misplaced trust in him, the man was dangerous. "Planning to clear your own crimes by using me?"

"No, I came here on William's behalf." He hopped off of the black cross, then he dug his hand into his inner pockets while walking to Grell. He produced a letter from his person, his bony fingers extended outwards, offering the letter and disregarding the knife. "His last words before I lost contact with the man. Goodness, what use would you have for me other than being my next Bizarre Doll?"

He gave a light chuckle.

"Take it, it takes up space in my pockets."

"William...?" Grell snatched up the letter, backing up a few steps and falling to his knees between the headstones of his two lost friends, tearing open the letter with trembling hands. The switchblade was sent away.

Undertaker loomed over him, curious as to what the man had wrote on that old parchment. It had truly been months since Undertaker had last seen William at all, and only this letter had appeared on his windowsill with a pigeon tapping at the glass with another notice to wait at the ancient cemetery for Grell.

_Grell Sutcilff,_

_I write to you with trembling hands. I trust you found this through Undertaker._

_I am gone now, Heaven or Hell I may be at, I'm no longer a part of this world. Eric Slingby had tormented me these few weeks, I'm beginning to slip away into the madness in which it is my own. Reality or fantasy, I can no longer tell. I am a fool, I truly am, for not having asked for help, and now here you are, reading my last words. A result of my stubbornness._

_Undertaker is in debt with me. For my efforts to keep him out of the system, he should be obligated to aid you, protect you, and guide you. I know what person you are, have known for for years, you would leave the Dispatch Society if I am gone. And...I encourage you to do so._

_He speaks the truth, so listen to the man. He may be trying at times but he's reliable. Trust in him like you would in me.  
_

_Rivers Mason is truly the one responsible (the man visits from time to time to taunt me), Slingby was merely his tool; Slingby was meant to get you and you alone. The demon revealed this to me...another reason why I was unable to find help, he deceived me._

_Should I be subjected to his torment, he would leave you untouched. As long as Rivers remained on the job, you would be untouched as well. But what good will this deal be if I have passed on? Ridiculous and desperate...but if you read this, this means you have won the battle but not the war._

_End this nightmare [...]_

The writing had ended with a long, black smear going down the page. William may have been caught while writing this and had to slip it into the envelope without a second thought. Undertaker gave a visible frown before pulling away, he went to William's grave and placed a hand on the golden plaque, gently touching it and murmuring,"I thought it would be a rumor..."

"...A rumor?" The redhead questioned, clutching William's words to his chest. He turned to look at the man. William said to trust him, so he would. It was William who had gotten him this far, and he would trust William's chosen replacement to help him along further.

"A Shinigami perishing...and then being revived as a Demon. It's not knowledgeable to our kind, but the Devil has quite a couple tricks up his sleeve; most demons don't even tell that they were once humans or Shinigami if their souls were converted by a twist of fate." He shrugged.

Grell thought the older man would be quite learned in the many ways of the afterlife so it surprised him that Undertaker knew as much as he knew for himself; these laws of Death for immortals were left untaught at the Academy.

"No matter, what's impossible has been made possible...but I am curious, what were the fates of these two?"

He pointed at the grave markers.

"Whispers say that a death scythe wasn't what done them in, that you ripped them apart like Jack the Ripper..."

Grell's eyes lowered to the ground, "It was Eric. Eric ripped their souls out piece by piece...he fragmented them...and then dragged them to Hell because that stupid crow wouldn't close the portal to Hell fast enough...I watched them slip into the fires."

" _Rip out their souls_ ," he mused to himself," _that is certainly new to me_." He raised his voice to be audible. "What were their last words to you you?"

"Before...or after they died?" Grell questioned, "Will, at least, came back after Eric got to him...Ronnie...Ronnie hadn't had the chance..."

"Either time," he replied, eyes wandering to Ronald's grave.

"Ronnie...told me to run...and Will..." he paused, unable to think past that look in William's eye as he was pulled down to Hell.

"And Will?..." He egged him on gently.

"... **'End the nightmare'**..." He whispered.

Undertaker sighed and looked up at the sky with a slight frown. "Both dragged to Hell...imagine that, hm. For services done for the Lord, to be His envoys of dying souls, they earn that fate as payment. Even the angels wouldn't come to your aid, and we do all the work for them, a very bad system we have. They certainly didn't come to mine..."

A small speck in the white sky appeared, he squinted until it came closer, diving headlong for the earth. It was a minute or so before it took an identifiable form, a bird, a pigeon to be exact. When it came close it became a ruffle of feathers before landing upon William's headstone to prune itself.

"Ah, William's messenger," he murmured. He offered a hand it the gray pigeon.

Curiously, it looked at Grell, then at Undertaker, before suddenly taking off, leaving the man with an outstretched hand.

"I suppose it's his way of telling us to leave." He glanced over at Grell while wrapping his coat tighter around him for warmth. "Well, Grell, I'm in debt with William, as mentioned in the letter, and I prefer to not let them go unpaid. The man has saved my skin countless times, it would be a pure shame if I couldn't live up to my worth; all those days of hiding from those blasted Authorities would go to waste if I linger here, especially with you."

Grell bit his lip, and took the initiative, getting himself to his feet. He turned to look back at the stones and fished into his pockets for his red reaper-issued glasses, gingerly setting them atop Ronald's cross, the string of beads dangling down the front of the shone. He lingered a moment longer before turning back to the older reaper. "Take me with you."

"Once you do this, Grell Sutcliff, you'll never be able to return," he warned in a grave tone,"they know who's glasses belong to who, you're giving a strong message..."

"I know." he glanced back, "But they also think I killed Will and Ron...knowing my life as a reaper is over, makes this easier. I want to live my life for them. I'll not disgrace their memory by giving up. I'll live. Rivers knows the truth. He'll know that this message is for him...as much a warning as it is my leaving reaper society forever."

He nodded in understanding while raising his hand up, smiling at him. "If reasons are stripped away from us, then we no longer see fit serve the Dead."

A strong gust of wind came, lifting the fresh snow up from the ground. Howling and biting at his skin, Grell took the cloak up to cover his nose and mouth, his eyes squinted as the snow began to whirl around, congregating at a particular, open spot between two rows of graves. He was aware that the older Shinigami was powerful, but to the extent of summoning something larger than a death scythe was an impressive feat.

The whiteness eventually gave spots to black and slowly died down; with snow falling back unto the ground, the screaming wind dissipated. Amongst the snow, the man had called forth a rather large ebony funeral carriage complete with unstained windows and four caskets inside; each were paired adnd stacked atop one another. White flowers adorned the inside, red on the outside. It was elaborately made, for all Grell knew, Undertaker may have stolen it from a noble.

At the front were two black horses whose mouths were anxiously chewing on their bits. They were harnessed to the carriage, hooves pounding the ground every so often to indicate their readiness to leave. One snorted, the other nickered, Undertaker went close to take one of their heads, getting two sugar cubes and giving it to Grell.

"You may as well let them know who you are," he advised, his fingers were wrapped around the headstall to keep the horse's attention upon Grell.

"Why?" Grell asked, stepping forward to gently greet the horses, he glanced at Undertaker, "are you planning on sending me someplace with them?"

"Either of these horses can be for your personal use should you need it. It's just a good way to let them know who you are before I let you have them for yourself..."

His hand went to push back the blindfold, revealing an double-irises in a single eye; the horse had been revived under the influence of a twist in fate. Undertaker walked away, going to the side to offer assistance for Grell to get on.

"As for now, I cannot leave you to yourself yet. Probably like Eric, you have much to learn in a new life. In repayment for William, I offer you help, guidance, and protection for living in the world on your own. I must admit, there will be times when I cannot be relied on, hence you must care for yourself for the most part."

He began to list things off with his fingers.

"Avoid Authorities, avoid demons, and judging by your combat etiquette, you need a lot more work done, I'm not comfortable with the knowledge that I can best you so easily. You're somewhat green, from what I can tell, but no matter, we have all the time in the world."

The redhead nodded with understanding as he took Undertaker's hand to get on. "I could manage if I wanted to."

"You can't go into the world alone," he murmured, helping Grell into the carriage. Once he had seated himself next to him, he leaned back and took out a bag of clattering objects. "I bet you want some rest from all this."

He pulled out a bottle of pills.

"Scarlet?" He grinned.

Grell's eyes widened at the illegal drug, but, of course, why should he refuse it? he wasn't part of the reaper society any longer. He reached out to take the bottle nimbly between his fingers. "How do you have so much of it?"

"Hm, when you kill a Shinigami, all they leave behind is the death scythe. Melting the metal is the way to go for making those pills," he snickered. He took up the reins and clucked his tongue, the horses snorted a few more times before hauling the heavy load. "And in my life, I've killed quite a few, discovered the formula for myself, so on and so on. William was addicted to the stuff ever since that accident, unfortunately...that bag is the last I have."

Grell stayed silent, staring at the Scarlet in his hand and holding it up, "...William was..?" he gripped it, and decided to take the drug...in a way, it would bring him closer to William once more.

Undertaker's hand shot out to him before he would swallow a bunch. "Whoa, whoa, hold on, just one," he warned, taking the bottle and skillfully leaving on one pill in Grell's hand. Grell stared at him, curious, Undertaker took note of it. "Too much and you may end up as good as dead."

Grell never understood the effects as it was never distributed to him, or at least to his knowledge. He remembered seeing the little, red pill being forced into his mouth by the Authorities. That little taste was temptation enough, he felt no fear, no pain, as though he could do anything. The thought of forgetting the last few months was something he needed. He took it in and waited.

"Why so?" He questioned.

The older man looked thoughtful for a moment. "In small amounts it represses memories temporarily, that's how strong they are as pain killers. Sometimes...as a Shinigami, we attain human traits, we have the capacity to have emotions. In large amounts, the Scarlet wipes out a lot of ourselves, who we are, and we simply grow mad; similar to a demon dismantling our souls from our bodies. In a way...it chops off a piece of your soul after a long duration of abuse...it's best to start off small if you chose to rely on it."

Grell sighed and nodded, tucking the rest away in his pocket.

"Where do you plan to go, Grell?" He asked, whipping the slack reins and bringing the horses into a trot. "My agendas are yours for the moment."

"I'm not sure," he muttered, watching the city pass them by, "I never expected any of this to happen..."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Not sure? Goodness, spending eternity with you must be quite the bore! Come now, Grell, young ones like you thirst for adventure!" He pointed at Grell's pendant, it was pinned to his ascot. "You hold the Baron of Barnett's crest, you could easily pass for some relative of the sorts, cause a little mischief, eh?"

"Why the bloody hell would I do that!?" Grell snapped, "I'm just saying I don't know right now! Be thankful I even got out of bed to venture out today."

"Oh? So you are just gong to wander this godforsaken earth unsure of yourself!?" He was tempting him into something. "At least I was productive!"

He felt that he could add more. As time passed, Grell could feel confidence build up, perhaps it was from the Scarlet. His hesitant thoughts abated, he thought quickly; the man would never get off of his case if he couldn't pick a direction to go.

"Isn't it more an adventure with not having a real destination?" He challenged with a smirk, Undertaker noticed the change in tone of his voice. "But I suppose we should start by heading away from London...England, even." His eyes glinted as he eyed his companion. "Ever been to France? It's quite lovely."

His laughed died down but that smile was still there. "Ha! Hadn't been there since Marie Antoinette, a sordid affair!"

"Then shall we?" The redhead asked, the Scarlet's effects allowing him to smile as if everything was right in his world.

"To France it is, m'dear!"

He looked forward and waved his hand. Soon enough, the whipping wind came to them, sending white to blind them. Among the gusts buffeting them with snow, shouts came and the sound of horses from a distance told that they had alerted the city guards. "What's life to you if you can't live it!?"

Their carriage jolted at the snow, he whipped the beasts once more. With manes flying and tails barely catching the wheels, they cried out with hooves thundering the white covered ground to kick themselves into a steady but spirited gallop. One could barely see their coats in the whiteness, Undertaker's laughter resonated, and soon, they were in a world of white.

Grell could have sworn Undertaker butchered him in the field, taken him in a mocking chariot of the one that took Elijah, and whisked him away to Heaven; in the reality, he was simply on the road to a new life. When Undertaker's laughter became infectious, he too began to join him, he felt he had truly been born anew that day amongst the paleness of Winter.

* * *

  **~END~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for reading, we hope you enjoyed it!


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